Control That Which You Cannot Destroy
by jay8008
Summary: Cerberus' goal was simple in concept: resurrect Shepard to be precisely the same. They failed. Pushing forward, the result was a powerful, untested cybernetic soldier who doubts his own humanity. Now, he will need to lean on his new crew of unknowns, old friends, a past love, and a new one even more fragile than he. [Many thanks to my fellow authors 'JacksAreWild' and 'Bebus']
1. More Human than Human

_Oh, hello._

The gusting, searing wind washed over the crouching turian as he huddled against a hot boulder, bracing his M-92 Mantis tightly against his shoulder and right mandible.

On this tropical world of Zorya, they were fighting in one of its very few deserts, baking under the fiery rays of its setting sun, Faia. The intense orange rays played across the battlefield, setting intense areas of both extreme light and dark. Behind his protective rock, he felt invisible.

Garrus Vakarian sighted down on a Blue Suns trooper, catching his unaware target in both partial cover and consumed by the distraction of reloading his assault rifle. Most of the trooper's head and part of one arm were exposed. Another blast of hot wind scoured bits of sand and twigs over the sniper, but he was well-braced and the heavy barrel of the rifle was unaffected the air's efforts to nudge it aside.

_Too easy, should I even bother to use the scope? I could tell Shepa..._

The world went blinding white.

The turian was slammed forward into the stone outcropping that was suddenly not his ally. Flames and chunks of hot metal shot into his shields, dropping them to nothing. His armor was peppered with dents as he was enveloped by black smoke. Bouncing off the unforgiving rock, he fell to his back on the ground, senseless, the rifle pinned beneath him.

After several seconds of corpse-like stillness, his pupils twitched, then he blinked slowly. Darkness. Light. His brain made connections to his senses, and awareness returned.

_Alive?_

Unmoving eyes stared up at the blurred sky through his cracked visor as tracer rounds crisscrossed the air above him silently.

_I...think._

The silence slowly became a high-pitched tone, and then the tone was mixed with distant gunfire.

_Ringing ears. Pain._

_That means alive._

_So, get up._

His body politely declined.

_GET._

_UP._

Weakly pushing a flaming chunk of metal off of his chest, he rolled over to his side with a groan he didn't realize he'd uttered, then rose to one knee, his stomach lurching, vision blurring again into a mess of colors and glowing areas.

_Concussion?_

_Smoke. Orange flickering light._

_Shuttle on fire, peeled open like a can, could almost reach out and touch it._

_It would cook one side of my body if I didn't have armo..._

_Uugggh, no, do NOT vomit._

_I hope this ringing in my head isn't permanent._

_Hey, what's up with the running internal monologue?_

_Whoa, I'm in a weird place._

_Huh._

_I feel terrible._

Shaking his head gingerly, his vision improved a little, and he could see small bits of flaming metal were all around him, obscured now by smoke rather than by dimmed eyesight.

_Wait a second._

_What fired at me?_

He coughed heavily, and fresh pain shot through his chest, bending him double. Dancing lights filled his vision.

_Breathing is bad, got it, understood._ _Why can I smell smoke? That should be filtered out._

With a grunt of effort, he leaned on the rock and peered over it, hoping he didn't see a dozen armored-up mercs bearing down on him. No, it was worse than that. Tapping the com button on the low right-side of his helmet, he..._what?_

_That doesn't feel right._

After feeling around the jagged metal opening, his wrist resting in the notch of his neck armor blasted out two weeks ago by a gunship rocket, he decided that the button simply wasn't there anymore. Pulling his gloved hand away and up in front of his blurred sight, he squinted at the two fingers and saw his dark blue blood.

_Did I just reach through and touch my neck and not feel it?_

_I'm_ sure_ that's not a bad sign at all._

_At least it's on the side of my head that was pre-ruined._

Turning to the direction, or to what he was pretty sure was the right direction, where he last saw Jack, he yelled "MECH!" as loudly as he could manage, which actually came out as a loud croak. The effort of this made his head swim, but he ignored it and slowly bent and picked up the Mantis, every joint in his body protesting. A droplet of blood fell from his face into his helmet's cracked visor.

_Joker is going to _own_ me for taking another rocket to the face, maybe it's best if I just die here._

_Shepard owes me a drink for this. For getting exploded. Maybe getting exploded is two drinks...will call a team meeting later and hash this out._

_Make some rules, Miranda can make a chart, it'll be sweet. We'll have snacks._

* * *

Twenty meters away, Jack spun around towards the sound of the shouted warning, just in time to catch a blast of stinging dirt in the face.

_I hate this fucking place._ At least she had worn her mirrored visor today for this very reason. The whole crew on-planet wore breathing masks or helmets.

_That sounded like Shepard's boyfriend. I think._ _In a, you know, strangled to death kind of way._

She dismissed the biotic _Pull_ ability she'd been using on the thrashing Blue Suns centurion currently floating in the air towards her, sparing him the close-range shotgun blast he'd had waiting for him.

_Shit, that would have been sweet._

Freed from the biotic suspension, the armored soldier fell twenty feet and landed directly on a pointy rock, making a brittle, splintering noise. He rolled over, curled up in agony with his legs twitching, and didn't get up.

_Hah, ok, that was pretty funny too. I _love_ it when they're crunchy._

The familiar tingle in her lower belly was starting up again, but she pushed that aside. _I got shit to do._

The biotic turned her head and saw, in order: a plume of black smoke blowing across the brown, rocky landscape; a burning shuttle that was the source of said smoke; Garrus, who was himself smoking and appeared to be on fire; and, in the distance beyond, a heavy YMIR mech lumbering across the stony field of the old Blue Suns communications base.

Jack's face, already aglow with the excitement of battle, slashed into a wolfish smile as she burst into a run directly towards it. A quick glance satisfied her that Garrus was still alive, and she nearly hurdled directly over him as he stooped to pick up his gun. "I'LL DROP HIS SHIELDS!" she yelled as she flew by, her voice distorted by her breathing mask and the heavy winds.

Tucking her legs up and skidding over his cover, she never broke stride and charged the mech without pause, her biotics flaring brightly over her body. Emerging from the background of flames and smoke, Jack closed the distance to the YMIR fearlessly, her face twisted in crazed aggression. The mech stopped its advance, hesitating as it processed options and brought weapons up to bear.

Too late.

The criminal biotic let forth a wordless shriek and unleashed a Shockwave across the ground even as she sprinted directly at the lumbering machine.

Rocks and dirt exploded into the air and were immediately churned by the hot wind. A trooper, who had just fallen in beside the YMIR for mobile cover, was thrown far into the air and away, out of immediate view, his rifle spinning off in an entirely different direction. The tank-like YMIR itself was actually staggered as the ground beneath it heaved, and it briefly flailed its limbs as gyros and processors crunched information to keep it standing.

With a final burst of speed, she abruptly dropped in mid-run, sliding through the falling cloud of dirt on one knee and her butt, under the rocket-arm. Popping up behind it to her feet, she was now directly behind the heavy, whirring machine.

Its auditory sensors could assign no meaning to her sudden and vicious laughter.

* * *

Miranda, kneeling, squinted against the blowing grit and pointed at one of two figures cautiously moving around a large rock on a small ridge ahead. "Left one." Thane, prone beside her, had already predicted her choice and caressed the trigger of the M-97 Viper. The helmet-less Batarian Blue Suns Legionnaire's head burst open violently, spraying its contents over the soldier next to him.

The surviving trooper, a fully armored human - now speckled in gore - dove to the ground and hurriedly scrambled back into cover. Ahead and below them, Grunt and Zaeed had dug in to provide a front defensive line in case the Suns came out in force. They had, once, and the open ground was littered with blue-armored corpses, the result of a merciless crossfire from two of the toughest beings on the crew.

Liara's information to Shepard had been good, and the Blue Suns were indeed at this installation in unusual force. Shepard had gathered the team in the Normandy's war room and had spoken of very heavily encrypted message traffic, as well as of reports from local sources regarding the sudden buildup of manpower and materials at the site.

He had not specified why they should care so much about a Blue Suns facility, or where this information had come from, but Miranda was no fool and had pieced together the latter, at least. Shepard had been receiving fairly regular intel from _someone_, and he _happened_ to be the ex-lover of a certain asari. Said asari was now, she knew, an information broker who was ferociously loyal to him. _Hardly a mystery, that._

Now, here she was, leading "the B team," who had simulated an assault on the opposite side of the installation upon report that the primary team had entered into a firefight. With the numbers reported here, and the generally high caliber of Blue Suns mercenaries, walking in the front door seemed a poor choice. At least now a sizable portion of Suns were diverted and distracted.

Now, if she only knew precisely _why_ they were here, the frustration she felt gnawing at her stomach might perhaps subside.

* * *

Shepard paused behind a large metal crate that was taller than he was and offered him a moment of complete cover. Enemy rounds thudded into the far side, while others specked the wall behind him, as he reloaded his large M-6 Carnifex pistol with heavy warp rounds, not bothering to look down at the gun as he did so. Snug at his back was tucked a N7 Hurricane, modified with lightweight materials and an expanded magazine to offset its furious rate of fire, for when he dealt with enemies in room-to-room fighting, as he expected he would today.

From the sound of things, Jack and Garrus were keeping most of the outside forces busy on this side of the installation, and if Shepard gained entry to the door, he could try to discern the contents that were so heavily protected.

Shepard popped his head around the corner of his cover for an instant, updating his situational awareness. In battle, he instinctively kept a sphere of sorts in his mind, populated with known enemies; last known location of currently unseen enemies; cover and concealment options, including damage resistance of said options; firing arcs, both incoming and potentially outgoing; all while factoring in known weapon options and biotic powers of current teammates. He layered this with a chaotic combat "style" that had no one pattern or technique.

Every battle, with every foe and teammate, he observed and absorbed.

Thane's slippery evasion followed by focused striking; Wrex and Grunt's shock trooper charges that disrupted the execution of the opponent's game plan; Miranda's almost passive cover-and-observe defensive stance, waiting to see what the enemy did and then making them pay for every inch they gained; Zaeed's grim I'll-win-because-I'm-tougher methodical advance forward; and Garrus' gift of picking the singular moment when a perfect shot could turn a battle.

He used them all.

He also used his brutal years of training that had led him to hyper-elite N7 status, a designation achieved by so few that even being invited to attempt N1 certification was a respected achievement, even in failure. Succeeding at N1 was a career-maker, and _being_ an N7 was approaching mythical status. He also used something he was simply born with...an undeniable willpower that would blaze to life at the appearance of an obstacle between himself and the goal.

Improvise. Overcome. Advance. Destroy.

A grenade landed in the dirt next to him with a dull thud, and a dull red light pulsed from it, showing armed status. With only mild irritation, Shepard kicked it aside. As it exploded at a harmless distance and showered him with gravel and dust, he emerged from cover and surged forward.

The galaxy's only living hunter of Reapers. A killer of men; krogan; batarians; turians; and geth; thousands of times over.

A dead man risen more powerful than ever.

Inside his helmet, his eyes were calm and still behind the visor, for he felt no anger.

He felt little of anything.

There was no need.


	2. This House is on Fire

"Die, motherfuck!" At point-blank range, Jack braced her elbows tightly against her sides and rocked the M-27 Scimitar trigger repeatedly. The massive shotgun jumped in her hands again and again, spitting flames as it wobbled the mech. By the time the eighth and last round had exited the heavy weapon, it had numbed her hands and threatened to tear itself from her grip and strike her in the face. Through her narrowed eyes, she saw the shields buckle and collapse on the heavy mech, unable to withstand this quantity of abuse in so little time. Regardless, it started to slowly rotate in place, heavy feet shuffling as it turned to face her. Dropping the hot, smoking Scimitar, she spun around to get some distance from it and grab some cover while Garrus finished the job.

An enormous flash and thunderclap exploded in her skull, making her flinch and jump even as she collided with the chest of a Blue Suns trooper who had approached her from behind.

Jack had nearly run over the some trooper she had been flung aside earlier. He had retrieved his weapon and had brought the muzzle of his rifle to the back of her shaved head. Her movement had saved her life as she had inadvertently moved inside his point-blank range, the flames of the barrel firing just above her temple.

Jack's forward momentum could not be stopped and she smacked her face right into his, his breath hot on her as he yelled something unintelligible to the deafened biotic. Instinctively, she shoved him in the chest plate to gain space, then her biotics burst forth to flow over her body as she was covered in brilliant blue arcs of power. She howled in blind rage, fogging the breath mask she wore, as the merc was swept up and away. With enormous force, the armored trooper slammed into a rock wall that was over fifty feet away and forty feet up. The impact so powerful that blood shot out of the seams of his suit and stained the stones, before he fell limply into a shattered heap.

_Goddamn those sick Cerberus fucks, it still feels good. _Her body was on fire with arousal, suddenly heated and slippery between her legs just like every time she fought with anger and intent to kill. Flashes of memory struck her - medical techs remotely commanding cybernetic implants to assault her nervous system with agony when she refused to attack, then rewarding her with euphoria and the endorphins of sexual pleasure when she complied. A girl - blonde...she may have been ten years old - crying hoarsely with the agony they applied from behind armored windows high above them. She had a raw, stitched wound at the base of her neck that looked fresh, and a drop of blood escaped it and ran down into her dirty shirt. This was a trial run for something new, per standard procedure, so they didn't risk untested tech on the prized Subject Zero. The agony now seized Jack, as well, and would only stop for either them when they began to attack each other. If they wavered or held back from deadly force, the pain would return.

Jack remembered those blue eyes now, the way the life had faded from the one remaining one, from the girl's face and shattered skull having been crushed in grotesquely. So much blood had flowed out of that tiny body, on the concrete floor of the arena. How did such a tiny thing have so much blood? But she hadn't cared, she'd been bent double with laughter. Chemicals of reward had pumped into her bloodstream, leaving her giddy and filled with manic energy. Pacing excitedly and jumping in the glee of her victory, her thoughts had raged out of control - _They'll never beat me, fuck them all. I'll kill as many as you want, line them up. _High above, the technicians made their notes.

That girl's only crime had been being born biotically sensitive, and for this she had been chosen to be stolen from her family and raised in a secret Cerberus hellhole. She had never seen her teenage years, nor had she even wished to live as long as she had. Those that had sought to escape pain with death were kept from acting on that desire by any means necessary. They had served the program until they were no longer of use.

Behind her, the YMIR mech was facing her now and raising its weapons, optical targeting software centered on the huge black Ohm symbol that covered the entire center of her back. The stubby arms opened with a _clack-hiss_, weapons bared.

* * *

The room was largely blackness, illuminated only by five data screens that periodically updated with feeds of fresh information. Right now they were still, and thin blue fingers tapped nervously on the table while unblinking eyes stared at the screen, waiting. Deep shadows played across her face from what little light was available, and stress was clear on Liara's features. She had taken great pains to encrypt, relay, encrypt again, split, piggyback and bounce signals all around the galaxy on a mix of private and corporate signals that would trickle into the destination and eventually combine into a complete message. This took time and the delay was maddening. The destination would be EDI, but Liara could not trust the allegiance of a Cerberus-constructed AI, and thus had to both layer in an impossibility of backtracking on the delivery method of the message, as well as subtlety of content so as to not betray more than she wished. Was The Illusive Man also viewing every message she sent? She had to assume it was so.

Thus, she would send hints and prods, rather than be forthcoming. EDI had most recently replied to her message, seemingly independently, and relayed that the ground teams were now planetside and investigating the site in question. Liara rubbed her face wearily. Exhaustion was setting in now, as she had been awake for...thirty-one hours. From the first hint, pulled from millions of data streams per minute by her various VI's looking for patterns of information, and reduced this to merely dozens of leads per hour, she had painstakingly pulled just enough data from this location to grow alarmed...and chilled. Getting Shepard to go there, risking his life and those of his crew, without being clear as to the reason why, was asking him to place enormous trust in her, especially after the way she had somewhat rebuffed him on his Illium visit. It also asked a lot from herself. Sending him into danger, after the agonizing years of his death and recovery, when she and Feron had risked their lives and spent vast amounts to keep his body from the Shadow Broker and the Collectors, was unbearable.

_What were they to each other now? Did he love her still? Did she love him?_ They had grown close, and shortly before Ilos, when the fear of imminent death all around them, she had gone to him. In his cabin, he had became her first and only lover. Shepard had taken her with a tenderness that she could not have imagined a warrior-human capable of. Then, the intimacy had gone to new heights when they had joined minds, and what she had seen in him was breathtakingly pure and strong, but also damaged. He had maintained iron walls in his mind around some things, protecting her even as they fumbled and gasped and laughed together. The beauty of the memory, and the empty ache it left her with now, so far away from that night in both time and place, tightened her throat. Liara rubbed her palms into her suddenly wet eyes. _So tired_. Her fear for him kept her from seeking sleep, she knew _that_ was pointless from the stress churning in her stomach...the news would come. Her fingers tapped the table absently as she rolled her feelings over in her mind, searching them for truth.

* * *

The YMIR's rocket arm opening shook Jack from her short distraction. The thin woman looked back over her shoulder, full into the face of the YMIR, its now opened weapon arms pointed at her...and the mech's face shattered, most of its head turning to shrapnel, cutting her with hot metal bits and knocking her on her ass. She scrambled backwards instinctively, scraping the skin from her elbows and digging in her heels, away from the suddenly headless mech as it slumped to its knees limply. A red light emitted from the mech's neck stump and a high pitched beeping tone quickly went faster and louder. Jack's biotic shields started to glow over her body as her mind comprehended. _Oh shit oh shit, these fuckers explode like a mini nuk... _The blast shook the entire canyon.

* * *

Fighting off waves of weakness and nausea, Garrus had struggled to get his gun into place just as he had heard the blasts of Jack's shotgun behind the mech. Sighting it down, he had targeted the center of mass through the smoky, oily film on the scope lens, and pulled the trigger with far less than his usual finesse. Nothing happened, not even the _click_ of an empty chamber. The trigger didn't move. As ice flooded his veins, he pulled his head back and looked at the weapon, holding it sideways and glaring at it in wide-eyed betrayal. He had fallen on the gun after the explosion...the safety was now nudged over to the halfway mark between the symbol of a bullet logo, and an identical logo with a slash through it. Garrus snarled in frustration and punched the switch back to FIRE mode, then looked up at the YMIR. It now had its back to him, and just beyond and under the hulking machine he could see the strapped boots of Jack, looking tiny and vulnerable.

Hastily, he put the weapon on target and yanked the trigger artlessly. The satisfying blast and the slam into his shoulder from the powerful single-shot weapon caused relief to wash over him. In the distance, the mech's head exploded into sparks and fire, and his relief was replaced by a horrified chill. _No. Not a headshot._ YMIR's detonated as a final offensive attack when they ceased all sensor input while in close proximity to an enemy, and Jack was within an arm's length. A light like the sun blinded him and the shock-wave slapped his face with heat, despite the distance. _Spirits,_ _I've killed her. I've killed her!_

* * *

High above the battle, an abrupt rock ledge overlooked the valley below into which the installation site was hidden. A Blue Suns scout jogged up to the edge and went prone, having run in from his observation post nearly a kilometer away when he had seen the Cerberus shuttle come in, and he had radioed in an alert. Bringing his sniper rifle to his eye, his attention was grabbed by a man in black and red Alliance commando armor standing at the main door, his arm pressed to it, and his omni-tool glowing, and then standing still as it hacked the door. There could be no better time than now, so he placed the targeting x on the center of the man's back. The scope buzzed as it briefly calculated windage, elevation, and distance. Attention diverted, he didn't see the air shimmer and sparkle behind him as the hooded Kasumi Goto appeared. She came forward one silent step, the heavy pistol in her hand nearly touching the back of his helmet.

* * *

Shepard stepped over the armored corpse, the blue metal streaked with red and punched with smoking holes. A growing dark pool grew around it to match the others, forgotten now behind him. He strode up to the main door, slapped his omni-tool against the encryption lock and tapped the side of his helmet with the butt of his pistol. "EDI! Door!" Her metallic voice, even more inhuman when filtered through the communicator, replied instantly. "Yes, Commander Shepard, processing."

Behind him, on the horizon, Decoris was falling from sight, the fading light reflecting off the red rock all around and painting Shepard, as well as the world around him, in singular crimson. In his shadow, the colored squares on the lock chimed and buzzed as they spun and re-arranged themselves, before they all turned a matching green and toned a confirmation _beep_. "Decryption complete, you may proceed, Commander Shepard." As the doors slid open, there was an enormous blast behind him that replaced the dark red with blinding yellow, and he stumbled forward from the force punching him in the back, his armored chest hitting the metal floor with a _clang_ and sliding forward. From inside, three Blue Suns troopers fired wildly, blinded by the unexpected light that had silhouetted this new intruder for an instant.

Shepard rolled up to one crouching knee, keeping low and moving sideways to cover, behind a forklift-like machine. There were crates, barrels, and palates of boxes everywhere here, some in process of being unloaded. Non-combatants fled - people of many races in utility uniforms, some in technician coats - panicking as the distant sound of combat was suddenly all around them. Shepard fired a concussive shot at the troopers to keep them in cover without having to worry about killing someone unintentionally, then moved off to his left, dodging from cover to cover as they yelled contradictory updates at each other as to his possible location. As of yet, nothing seemed especially unusual in here, and he paused for a moment beside a palate covered with a tarp, which mostly concealed a pile of metal parts.

One of the troopers came around the corner of a large stack of drums piled four levels high, spotting Shepard and raising his rifle. Shepard robotically double-tapped him in the skull with his heavy pistol, then turned back to the partially covered machinery without waiting to see the trooper fall dead, most of his skull contents on the floor and walls behind him. Something bothered him about the machinery here...he reached down and pulled the tarp up..._Dragon's Teeth? Geth. Reaper technology. _His eyes narrowed as he considered implications. An installation on Sanctum, guarded by Blue Suns, filled with technicians and new materials, and Geth / Reaper technology that more recently seemed to be linked with the Collectors, and thus...what? His mind raced with possibilities, but too much was unanswered and this didn't make a lot of sense.

His thoughts were interrupted by a scattered submachine gun burst that largely impacted the crate he stood beside, one round absorbing into his shields. He spun and sighted down the armored Taurian, and the roaring Carinifex hit him with three shots to the chest The trooper backpedaled, flailed his limbs under the impact from the heavy disruptor rounds that seared through his weak shields, and went down. The third trooper ducked down low into his cover, and considered how much he was being paid versus the likelihood of having holes punched in his body by this killing machine with the fucking cannon in his fist.

"Co...an...er .h...ard?" Shepard tapped the side of his helmet, "Can barely hear you, EDI." "C...mmande., ..peritive y...ve...the ins...ion...lf destruc...iated by t...tants." Shepard walked closer to the door, his pistol raised as he scanned the suddenly silent room for threats. "EDI? Repeat please?" The AI's voice came in much clearer this time, but held an elevated note of urgency that he had not heard from the AI before. "Commander Shepard! A destructive sequence has been activated in the installation, you have 29 seconds to..." Shepard didn't catch the rest as he cursed and sprinted out the door, seen only by a single Blue Suns trooper who had finally peeked around the concrete steps he had hidden behind. The human merc hesitated, but was finally bested by curiosity. He stood cautiously and walked to the door, weapon held at the ready out in front.

* * *

Miranda shielded her eyes with a gloved hand. Though darkness approached, at this angle and position, they were staring directly at the setting sun as it fell behind the installation. From the roof of of the small complex, a single shuttle had just risen to peel way into the deeply colored sky. "Thane?" she questioned. The drell did not hesitate in responding. "I may be able to hit the shuttle, Miss Lawson, but I will be almost certainly unable to damage it." His nearly pupil-less black eyes tracked the shuttle as it became smaller in the sky. "Also, it may contain non-combatants fleeing for safety." Miranda had to concede the point, although as she swept her eyes over the complex again, she noted no motion at all now. _Why isn't anyone else trying to escape?_ She looked over her shoulder at the parked shuttle about 30 meters away, where Jacob sat patiently in the open doorway, and exchanged a look with him. He shrugged in return and looked at her curiously, not knowing the source of her sudden discomfort.

* * *

Garrus limped towards the small crater that the YMIR had created when it had detonated, holding his head in one hand, the other cradling his rifle. The wind had quickly swept away most of the dust and smoke, and a few of the larger rocks at the crater's edge clearly glowed orange, still. A small form lay beyond, much farther than he had expected, and he grimaced in guilt...until Jack moved, then slowly sat up, resting her elbows on her knees. She was scorched-looking with charred marks on her clothing, her uninked flesh pink with new burns, and her typically bare upper body was marked in a dozen places with weeping bloody spots. Several of the straps on her large boots flapped open, the leather torn, and her breathing mask flopped loosely on one broken strap at her neck. Her visor was missing and nowhere to be seen.

Jack wiped her bruised hand under one bloody nostril, and fixed the approaching turian with a malicious squint as another gust of grit swept over them. "Were you trying to shoot _me_ and then go out for beers with the mech? Nice job, asshole!" She spat red-tinged saliva and dirt, shook her head in disgust, then jerked in surprise when Kasumi appeared beside her in a shimmer of light. "Jesus shit! Don't fucking do that." "Sorry, can you stand, Jack?" Kasumi asked gently, hooking one hand under her arm. "Yeah yeah, help me up, I...ooowww...fuck not so...fast..." She coughed twice and wheezed, trying to recover her breath in the thin, dusty air. _If anyone says "breathable atmosphere" I'm going to fucking kick them right in the pills._

Garrus finally finished his slow walk to them as Jack arrived at her feet, bent almost double to match Garrus' stooped posture. One third of his helmet was missing, and he was leaking blue blood over one shoulder and down his battered breastplate. His armor was pocked with dents and scorch marks, and there was smoke coming out of his back where a charred piece of the shuttle was still lodged. He had walked here with the hesitant, uncertain steps of a broken old man. For a moment they sized each other up, with Kasumi looking back and forth at them, confused at the tension. Finally, Jack spoke flatly. "You look like shit, Garrus."

The sniper nodded slowly. "...thought...I had...", then he coughed, wobbled and fell to one knee. Kasumi made a sound of alarm, and reached out to him, but had no hope of holding up the heavily armored turian with one arm. Jack shrugged herself free of her. "I'm alright, give _Bullseye_ here a hand." The biotic stretched and stood a little straighter, and something caught her eye in the distance. Shepard was, _huh_...running like a dude who was late for something, right out the front door.

Ignoring the sound of Kasumi fussing over Garrus and calling for a shuttle, she concentrated on what she was watching, cocking her head to the side as a single Blue Suns trooper also appeared in the main doorway. _Huh...Shepard is a real pussy about being nice to people, but run away from a single merc?_

A huge wall of oily flames shot out of the massive main loading door of the base, like it was exploding forth from a dragon's maw. For an instant, the black outline of the merc was visible, then he vanished as the inferno rolled around and consumed him. Windows and skylights burst out with jets of bright fire, and vents on the roof spewed thick, oily, black smoke and flame.

"What the f..."


	3. Touch the Sky

Jacob set the shuttle down to the ground with more urgency than normal, and a huge cloud of red dirt was kicked up by the shuttle's engines as he did so. The Cerberus marine hovered the shuttle just above landing, preparing for a hot takeoff, if needed. Kasumi's radio call had indicated they had injured crew to pick up, and Miranda had hastily withdrawn her team and boarded. Through the windshield and illuminated by the shuttle's lights, he saw Kasumi, with one arm protectively around Jack's waist, appear from the deep red near-darkness as they both shielded their eyes in the blowing grit. Jack limped and looked like hell all over but no single serious injury stood out. Behind them, and moving slower, Shepard was half-dragging the battered Garrus, who moved his legs weakly to help them along but appeared only semi-conscious.

Miranda threw open the door, letting a blast of air and sand in, and nodded at both Grunt and Zaeed while gesturing pointedly outside. They jumped out immediately and fanned to the side, covering any potential threats, weapons up and scanning back and forth. As Jack and Kasumi arrived at the shuttle door, Jack stumbled away from her and half-fell into the waist-high edge of the shuttle floor. Miranda made a half-gesture to reach down to offer her a hand up, but Jack shot her both a scowl and a middle finger, and climbed in herself, gasping for air, her broken mask still dangling loosely by its one remaining strap. The Cerberus officer's face hardened but she made no other form of reply. Jack was followed neatly by Kasumi, who gracefully hopped in, shrugged at Miranda helplessly, and took her seat in the furthest corner, next to Thane, making room for others in the crowded opening. Jack plopped herself heavily in front of them both, almost sitting on Thane's feet with her back to the shuttle wall, and heaved a great moan as her head rested against the cool metal. She was covered with sweat, red dirt, and was bloodied in dozens of spots.

Shepard dragged Garrus to the shuttle's edge and they also fell heavily against it, both sets of combat armor banging loudly as composites met metal. Inside, Miranda gripped the collar of Garrus' suit, and from the outside, Shepard lifted against the side of his breastplate. Together they loaded him inside as gently as possible given the circumstances. A few shots rang out, as Zaeed and Grunt suppressed the very few Blue Suns that could be seen, but clearly, the strong force they had witnessed initially had either fled, or were inside the now fiercely burning complex. Thick, noxious looking smoke vanished into what was now becoming the night sky. Shepard jumped in, and Miranda leaned out of the door, shouting for Zaeed and Grunt to return.

Moments later the door was shut, mercifully cutting off the howling wind and the cursed blowing dirt that had gnawed at them like sandpaper for the last hour. With raw and scraped hands, Jack pulled open a ration box, and dug out a plastic envelope of electrolyte fluid. Gripping the edge, she tried to rip the corner off and slipped. She repeated the effort with the same result, and her anger threatened to explode. _Open you fucking piece of fucking shit! _Thane reached down to help her, and irritably she slapped his hand away and tore the corner off with her teeth with a snarled curse. Jack sucked the small container dry and tossed the envelope aside all in one motion, then gasped in a breath. The assassin sat back straight in his chair and glanced at Kasumi again. As one they shrugged almost imperceptibly.

Miranda motioned for Grunt to move one of his enormous legs, and she reached past him and dragged out a medical chest from under the troop bench. Popping the latches, she opened it and pulled out some emergency supplies, including a clear, bluish Hemocyanin-compatible fluid that was a synthetic blood plasma for dextro-aminos. "We only have one of these on the shuttle!" she shouted at Shepard, yelling to be heard over the roar of the engines as Jacob maxed the engines to escape the planet's gravity. Shepard was leaning over Garrus, who was flat on the floor in the center of the main shuttle hold, holding the back of his head gently while removing his ruined helmet. Prying it open was like dumping a glass of fluid on the floor, due to the navy blood that had pooled inside of it. Jack heard Kasumi suck in her breath in alarm, while Thane merely frowned in evident concern.

Shepard, not looking up, took an offered medi-gel applicator from Miranda's hand and applied it to the pulsing wound on Garrus' neck, just at the bottom edge of the large existing bandage that covered most of the right side of his face. He reached up and patted Shepard's knee, and the Commander leaned in closer as Jack strained to hear the words. "Don't...suppose...we could keep this... from Joker?" he wheezed. Shepard grinned back at him and patted him on his armored chest fondly. Miranda activated her omni-tool and spoke into it. "EDI, have Dr. Chakwas ready to accept a casualty in the shuttle bay. Inform her Garrus is injured. Moderate to severe neck laceration, symptoms consistent with concussion or shock." "Confirmed, Officer Lawson. Standby for update. ETA to Normandy dock is currently 26 minutes."

Shepard shifted from his kneeling position to sitting, and heaved a deep breath. _Everyone was alive, we didn't lose anyone today. Time to make sense of all of this later, for now just be glad they all lived to fight another day. My people. _Now able to look around the cramped shuttle room, lit dimly with blue track lights along the low ceiling, he took stock of his soldiers both new and old. Garrus, his brother-in-arms, of course. The most trusted. The right hand man. The extension of self. From there, it was a lot of new people.

Miranda was intelligent, beautiful, demanding, and coldly focused. This he could deal with; she had command skills and was exceedingly calm in stressful and chaotic situations. She had no fear when it came to making tough decisions. Shepard had taken to having her lead any squad outside of his own, thus they rarely teamed together now. This was not avoidance, rather it was professional respect.

Kasumi and Thane were both relatively new, and hard to know, the same yet opposite. Thane was spiritual, still like calm water, unreadable, yet not unkind and unfailingly polite. He would come off as robotic, except for the hint of deep emotion and loss just beneath his scaled surface. Kasumi was, like Thane, a shadow only seen and heard when desired. However, she was also teasing and constantly amused by what she observed, which was a great deal. The thief had already displayed a gift for reading body language and hidden meanings, and the crew found themselves confiding in her easily. Shepard had taken an instinctive liking to the both of them.

"Commander Shepard, Dr. Chakwas and assistants will be waiting to receive you in the shuttle docking bay. Your ETA is now twelve minutes." "Thank you, EDI."

Grunt was a vessel that had only started to be filled, as he was essentially a teenager who sought only guidance and the proof of worth through victory in battle . He had been aggressive and unpredictable, but had calmed somewhat since his rite of passage on Tuchanka, with Shepard standing at his side. Following that, he had taken Shepard to be his first "battlemaster", a term of respect, an elder status labeling him as a leader and teacher of sorts. Most importantly, he listened. Most of the time.

Zaeed was, superficially, a hardened mercenary and little more. His face was a map of battles won and lost, all in the name of credits. He pretended to not give a crap about anything else, and most believed it. Shepard, though, saw something else...he was nostalgic about the past, greatly, perhaps aware he was in his twilight years. Also, Shepard had already caught some hints in his stories that he took slights personally, so it wasn't _all_ about the credits despite his repeated insistence as such.

Jack. The newest addition was also the enigma, the x-factor. This was her first mission away from the Normandy since her explosive rescue from the prison ship Purgatory, where she had been judged such a threat that she had been kept in cryostasis. He had purposely paired her with himself and Garrus, both to keep an eye on her, and so she would hopefully benefit from Garrus' quiet steadiness. To say she was on the edge of violently lashing out at all times was a dramatic understatement. Her dossier labeled her insane; a psychopath; a wild animal.

Shepard, on the other hand, from what little he knew about her so far, wondered how she could even be as functional as she was. She was the only person on the shuttle where Shepard had been unsure how she would act when presented with the situation of receiving orders in combat. Today had worked out well enough; she had passed the test of keeping her shit together. Now, Shepard watched her as she fished a protein bar from the kit, and unsteadily ripped it open to ram it into her mouth. She leaned back against the wall, still sitting, and chewed it with closed eyes and immense relief on her face. He had heard that high-level biotic output burned your energy at a fierce rate, and depleted the body like being hollowed out from within.

From looking at her, she had a long history of pushing herself to the limits of where rage could take her. Built like a long distance runner, she was long and without a gram of excess flesh on her, with a thin neck; a tiny, tight waist with defined abdominals; and narrow hips...with a start, he noticed she had stopped chewing and was looking directly at him. Her large, bright, and chocolate-brown eyes were suddenly narrowed with the chill of suspicion.

He offered her a quick thumbs up, hoping she would take that as positive reinforcement of her first battle alongside the crew, then turned his gaze to the floor. If nothing else, even if he was wrong about her, Jack was a ridiculously powerful biotic bomb that he could throw at the Collectors, and he needed weapons. Weapons of all kinds.


	4. Good Enough

The muscular man was pushed through the open door of his dark apartment by the brown-haired woman currently attached to him, their tongues fighting for position as they gasped and moaned into each others mouths, tasting the alcohol on each others lips hungrily. The man fumbled blindly for the light next to the door, but the woman caught his arm and murmured into his mouth between kisses "mmm no...want...let's do...mmm this...just by...feel...mmm..." As she spoke, she tugged his shirt out from his belted pants, pulling it over his head and tossed it aside carelessly. He gasped as she raked her short nails up and down his muscular chest, pinching his nipples playfully as she chuckled against his mouth. She turned her head sideways and with a wicked grin that he could only feel, ran her tongue over his teeth, making him moan with freshly spiked arousal. _Jesus._

He gently slid his hand down and between her legs, where the seam of her standard gray military running shorts were tight against her. The cloth was warm and damp, and when he stroked her there, slowly but firmly she squealed into his mouth while gripping his large, rounded shoulders and ground herself against his hand. _God she's so hot for this. _"Your...bed...ahhhh!...where...?" The man replied by directing her down the dark hall, and they groped and kissed as they stumbled along, nearly falling in the process, which only brought on drunken giggles.

His room was also nearly completely dark, only lit by moonlight through one small window. When the back of his knees hit the edge of his bed, she stopped and took a half step back, her teeth shining in the dim light as she held her arms straight up towards the ceiling, and whispered with a slight slur, "My shirt, take it off me." He bit his lip - he was painfully erect and this girl was driving him crazy. He obediently took the hem of her thin, gray sweater and lifted it off her in one smooth motion. As soon as her arms were free, she took a half-step in retreat, reached behind herself and unhooked her simple white bra, starkly contrasted with her tanned skin.

The woman shrugged it from her shoulders and let it hang from a single finger, as casual as if nobody else was in the room. With feigned disinterest, she raised her other arm over her head and smoothed her hair back, a hint of a teasing smile on her lips as she clearly displayed herself for his benefit. Hidden under her simple gray sweater was - the first comparison that entered his mind - a professional fitness model. Her shoulders and arms spoke of hundreds of hours in the gym, the broad V of her ribcage...other thoughts were lost as he stepped forward and embraced her, hands moving to the small of her back. He bent forward, and ran his mouth along the tanned skin from the globe of her shoulder, along the collar bone, while she leaned back and moaned in appreciation.

Her perfume was extremely faint, a token gesture of scent...mostly she just smelled like healthy skin; like a young woman; like sex. _I bet she's not worn a dress since prom night._ _I bet she could kick most guy's asses, too._ She had firm, perfect, medium breasts. She nibbled at his lips and groaned as he rubbed his palms over them, then slid his hands down her sides. Her waist was not especially narrow, but her stomach and ribcage were rippled into cubes of firm muscle. _This girl works out_ _hardcore_. She flicked her bra aside, put both hands at the back of his neck, and steered his mouth down her hot, hardened nipples. Her sweater was still in his hand. He dropped it to the carpet, where it lay forgotten in a dim square of light from the window. Across the front was stenciled in simple block letters: _Alliance Marine_

* * *

The elevator doors closed, and the hum of the moving machinery indicated the ascent of Garrus, Dr. Chakwas, and two crew volunteers to the medical bay, leaving the others to mill around the shuttle bay. They formed groups, as they finally started going over the details of the action they had just seen. Zaeed stated the facility had been rigged with incendiary traps, given the low blast level and immediate intense fire. This to speculation as to what was being hidden there, how the Blue Suns were involved, and why things got so very quiet at the end. The one shuttle that got away also was a point of interest. Shepard stood silently, giving the team a minute to decompress, before noticing that Jack was nowhere to be seen. A quick glance around didn't turn her up, and she certainly had not taken the elevator before the medical team. He walked to the still warm shuttle, put his hand on the top of the main door, and leaned in.

_No, it was better before. I don't want to be this way. Fucking weak. You're weak! They'll know. _Jack was sitting in her corner still, knees drawn up to her chin and her hands pressed to her temples, eyes closed. "Hey...Jack. You ok?" A small shake of the head, nothing else. Shepard looked back at the elevator, and the five of his specialists crowded in front of it, and had sudden insight. _She's trapped. The battle rush is gone. She was increasingly closed down the longer the shuttle ride went, people all around her close enough to touch. She chose a dark corner in the bowels of the ship as her quarters. Severe personal space issues._

"Guys...go get cleaned up. That dirt got into every seam of all our gear. Leave your weapons with Jacob. He'll have a long night." A nod from Jacob; he didn't seem to mind. "Get a bite to eat, and we'll meet in the war room in forty-five to talk it out. Dismissed." Miranda, her white catsuit stained pink in places from the red dirt of Zorya, nodded and summoned the elevator back down. Shepard waited until the doors closed behind them, and they were away.

"Jack? They're g..." She was already at the door, walking with a purpose, and stiff-armed him out of the way with a brief blue glare of biotic assist. Shepard, about 300 pounds in armor, stumbled. "Yeah, thanks, _hero_." She was still a dirty mess, bloodied, and her features were dark with contempt in the instant of eye contact as she went by. Without another word, she strode to the elevator and punched the button several times in rapid succession, in irritation.

Shepard leaned his back against the shuttle and watched her silently as she fidgeted until the lift returned, the doors opened, and she quickly stepped in. Sharply pressing her selection, the doors started to close. They were down to just a crack when he saw her slitted eyes lift for an instant to look his way. The doors closed, and she was gone. The N7 commando shook his head and retrieved Garrus' sniper rifle from the shuttle, put it on the table with the other weapons, and then walked to the elevator himself with bits of gravel falling in his wake. She was going to be a real pain in the ass, he could tell already.

* * *

Minutes later, in his quarters, Shepard peeled off the dirty armor, dropping it carelessly where he stood. Dr. Chakwas had essentially told him to bugger off and let her work - Garrus was not in a life-threatening situation so he didn't have to crowd her. He stripped and walked straight into his private shower, which he was more thankful for right now then even usual. Standing under the tepid spray, he leaned his forehead against the wall as water cascaded off his face and shoulders.

Stress, as usual, gnawed at his stomach...he had to write a reply to Liara about what they had found, which was not much; address the team; contact The Illusive Man and endure five minutes of half-truths and evasive statements. This was all before finding if unread messages were waiting for him...he had avoided Kelly Chambers on the way up here. Miranda also usually chatted with him after every mission. _This is more work then being in the military, _he thought sourly, although of course that wasn't really true. He shut the water off and checked the time. He still had 30 minutes.

* * *

"You have _two_ minutes, I mean it." Dr. Chakwas stepped aside in the doorway of medical and allowed Shepard entrance. "He has a concussion, internal bruises and cracked ribs from g-shock and impact , and the blood loss didn't do him any favors either. He has a raging headache and he really should be sleeping". "I won't be loud and excitable, don't worry. Two minutes exactly," he promised, patting her arm in thanks as he went by. Garrus was on a stretcher-bed, in the darkest corner of the room, to ease his eyes from what was likely an exceptional headache. "Commander...hey."

"Hey buddy. So, I may as well get this out of the way." He leaned over Garrus and grinned, "Have you considered spreading out the damage by rotating while being under rocket fire, rather then using the right side of your face all the time?"

Garrus's mandible twitched from under the fresh layer of bandages. "You know...this does make it...easier for the doc...she can have...modular...Taurian face pieces pre-made and...ready to just snap in." Garrus was speaking slowly and quietly, like every word was effort, between the bandages and the painkillers.

"Hey...seriously...if you see Jack...tell her I'm sorry...I was a mess and...screwed up my shot...took the YMIR right...in the back of the head. Can't do that...when you...have a buddy close. Sets off the destruct...know better. My head was...all screwed up...couldn't see right..."

Shepard waved his hand to cut him off. "Hey, hey whoa, stop...you had a concussion; your busted helmet was venting oxygen, so you had about half your air supply; and you had a nick in whatever it is they call a jugular vein in a turian. You went above and beyond, do you understand me?"

Chakwas tapped her knuckles on the window and looked at Shepard pointedly. Shepard held out his hand. Garrus reached up and gripped it for a moment before they exchanged a small, silent nod of understanding.

* * *

Shepard exited to the mess hall. A few of the specialists were there, and some of the "regular crew". As usual, it was a barrage of greetings, salutes, and playful jibes from those few who knew him well enough. Crew who were not just on mission, as an unspoken rule, stepped aside for those who were returning from one, so Shepard waited almost no time. At first, they had tried to step aside for him anyway, but he had refused; no exceptions. Gardner, upon being asked, put two servings of today's main on the Commander's tray, and two bottles of water.

* * *

Jack's jerked up off the leather vest that she had balled up under her head, lying flat on the floor. Footsteps were hesitantly coming down the stairs, feeling before stepping in the almost total darkness fed by a tiny amount of red light. She pulled the blanket up higher on herself and gritted her teeth. After a pause, Shepard appeared out of the shadows, one side of his face defined as he passed by a spot that had a candle's worth of illumination. "Fuck off, I don't want company," she hissed.

"I didn't bring any. I brought you some food, and this." He put down his tray - two plates; two forks; two bottles of water.

Jack looked back at him, her eyes dangerously narrow. "So you think I'm just a fucking_ idiot_, then? You were looking for a _lunch date_? Go away before I fuck this whole place up." Blue power arced over the fingers of one hand, igniting the room in blue light, and he could see she was spitting out the words between her teeth while her eyes glowed with fury.

Shepard took one step back from the tray, and regarded her coolly. "I had a pretty good friend on my team, on the first _Normandy_...human, strong biotic - not as strong as you, of course - but he was a real pro, went through BAaT."* His voice was low and even, lacking the command edge that people usually got to hear.

"Nice guy...modest guy, dedicated and skilled. He was well-liked by the crew, generally. Anyway...like I said, strong biotic...learned that you guys burn up yourselves up feeding it, like a person pounding at the weights while running up stairs at the same time, if that was possible. _He_ ate like a horse, too." He nodded at the tray. "I asked for two plates...Rupert assumed that meant for two people. That's it. Figured you'd like it sooner, rather then waiting until the night shift and taking food from the empty kitchen again."

Jack's face had smoothed from dangerous to merely guarded during his speech, but at the mention of her sneaking into the kitchen at night, her face hardened again, and Shepard held up his hands. "Nothing wrong with that. The kitchen is for everyone, but you don't like being around people...I get it. So here. I'll bring it every night." Her eyes went to the food, and back to him, then to the food again. She swallowed, the act unnoticed by him...the glitter of her bright eyes the only thing separating her from darkness.

"Now then, also this." He set down two datapads next to the tray. "More of the Cerberus info you wanted, from Miranda."

"_From_ Miranda?" Jack scoffed in a harsh whisper.

Shepard shrugged one shoulder. "Whatever, I asked her if she had more material for you. She pointed at these. I took them, and here they are." He turned on his heels and went to the stairs. "I need to go. Team briefing in five...don't worry, you can skip it. Now, I bet you're still all cut up and covered in dirt, because you're too cool to take care of yourself, until past midnight when you can creep around the ship by yourself."

Jack surged to her feet angrily, but he didn't pause in his speaking.

"You can use some medi-gel on your injuries, then take a shower. For the next hour, most of the crew should be at the meeting, so you can get to the washrooms without being bothered in the hall. You should go while you can. One more thing, I spoke to Garrus and he said he was sorry about the _mech incident_. Feels bad about it. I only had a minute with him and it was the only thing he talked about. He had a concussion, blood loss, and some internal injuries, and he still put rounds on target. Maybe appreciate he was trying to watch your ass, hmm?"

The sound of his steps went up the stairs.

"Shepard!"

The steps stopped.

"That guy. The biotic. What happened?"

A long pause resulted. Long enough that she thought he would avoid the question, and perhaps walk away from it. She heard him pause his breath, as if he was about to speak, then hesitate to choose his words carefully. "I had to make a decision once. Save _one_ of two good friends, or save neither. He died that day."

His footsteps faded away to silence.

Jack stared at the empty black of the stairwell for several seconds, then went to the food, cramming it into her mouth silently.

* * *

An hour later, the door to Shepard's quarters opened and he walked in wearily, dropping down onto his couch. He fell onto his back, one arm over his head, the other falling down to rest his hand on the floor. In the post-mission meeting they had discussed the possible ramifications of a human research facility being in possession of Dragon's Teeth, used by the Geth, or Collectors, or Reapers...nobody knew for certain the origin of them...to create husks from organics. Then EDI had revealed that in her continued analysis of the site's data transmissions, gathered during the mission, she had uncovered that the site's staff had been summoned to an underground bunker that was supposed to have escape tunnels to an undisclosed location.

The bunker didn't actually _have_ any tunnels, however. Instead, according to some site plans she had uncovered, and the bunker had also been wired with incendiaries.

The room was quiet after that.

Someone had sacrificed over two hundred researchers to keep whatever was there a secret. That one shuttle kept coming up, as well. It had vanished to the far side of the planet while the Normandy had held fast to accept the transfer of Garrus.

A talk with The Illusive Man had ended, as usual, with Shepard feeling like he got 50% of the truth every time TIM opened his mouth.

He heaved a great breath, then blew it out slowly.

Silence now.

He could hear his heartbeat. It struck him fresh all over again...he was alive.

In a way.

When he was perfectly still, and focused, he thought he could feel the millions of nanobots flowing through his bloodstream. His mind tired, but his body rarely did. He could drink a bottle of whiskey like water and not feel much of anything - and _that_ little experiment would have raised brows had he not been alone. He could run at full sprint for ten minutes and recover his breath in thirty seconds. He felt twice as physically strong as before; his bones weaved with synthetic fibers and shatter-resistant.

One of the first things he remembered, after waking up and stumbling out of that medical bay, was the sensation of being able to control an extra _thing_ in his body. It had been a disconcerting, terrifying sensation -like owning a new, hidden limb inside of oneself that was waiting to be manipulated, only not knowing what it would do. In confidence, he had gone to Dr. Chakwas once on the Normandy, and after assuring him she was not obligated to share the nature of his visits with Miranda or Cerberus - Dr. Chakwas had bristled at the notion, of course - and a full-body scan had revealed his unnatural internals. They had exchanged looks, his of unease and hers of sympathy.

Spidery synthetic threads running through his body led to a node sitting just behind his heart, and another at the base of his skull. There were many others, as well, but these two were both the largest and seemed to have the most connections. Without speaking more on the issue, he had closed down the display and left, retreating to his cabin. Thinking back on it now was discomforting. A distraction was better, so he would write to Liara again.

* * *

The shuttle that was the topic of so much speculation approached a private cruiser-sized vessel, just above the orbit of Sanctum, above the main commercial docks of the planet, and mingled with other ships. As it docked, the helmeted co-pilot turned in his seat and addressed the four well-dressed men behind him, and one in particular. As he spoke, he tapped the side of his helmet once. "Sir, excuse me...there is a private communication coming in to my personal comm. Asking for _you_ by name."

* * *

The woman curled against the man's bare chest until she could feel his deep, slow breathing...one of his hands cupping her bare breast still. Without expression, she slowly pulled away from him, stood unsteadily..._ugh...I've had a _lot_ of wine_...and collected her clothes in the dark. She carried her running shoes until she was outside his door, kneeling in the feeble light over his one step as she put them on without sound. She took a moment to tie her flowing brown hair back up to it's more familiar military bun.

It would be a thirty minute walk back to her barracks, at...she glanced at her tiny, gold, antique watch...almost one thirty in the morning. She had been all over him for almost two hours before he had finally collapsed, totally spent after his third climax of the night._ That last one, I really had to work for it, too. Have to admire his endurance._ He had laughed and babbled about how amazing she was and how lucky he felt tonight, and had hinted about meeting her again.

That would never happen. She was leaving this planet in the morning; reporting back to her ship; being reassigned. In the civilian bar she had never entered before, she had been on her forth glass of wine and feeling horrible about certain things in the past, when she had spotted him. The right height, the right muscles, the right hair, mostly...on impulse she had approached him, and soon they were headed to his place. In the dark, he had been perfect. She felt like a terrible itch had been scratched, at least for now.

_Scratched four times_, she mentally added without a smile.

Mixed emotions were coming in now - not exactly shame, but certainly not pride, either. She shook her head and sucked in the cold night air which helped clear her mind. No, she would not feel bad about this. She had hurt no one. _Right?_ He had been very nice actually, he didn't deserve this..._deception_. _Lie. Shut up, brain._

In the dark, it had been so very easy to pretend he was Commander John Shepard.

The athletic woman walked to the street, stretched for a moment, then bounced in place a few times. Operations Chief Ashley Williams jogged off towards her base, under the night sky of Benning.

* * *

Garrus dozed, alone in the medical bay. His prized optical sensor lay on a small table next to him, and the only sounds were the distant beep of one machine and his breathing. The overhead lights were off, and the light in the room was provided, barely, by a few green, blue, and white screens, and buttons of various medical equipment. His pain medication dripped into his bloodstream, and the bandages were thick on his neck. His eyes shot open...he closed them again, because that had hurt a great deal...but the door had just slowly slid open. He could feel the air shift as the artificial atmosphere of the main deck mixed with the medical bay, changing temperature slightly. Danger? Garrus turned his head very slowly and silently towards the door. It was so very blurry...his eyes were terrible from the drugs, concussion, and sleep.

A lean, long-limbed figure padded hesitantly two steps into the room without a sound, emerging from the black, half open doorway..._bare feet? Blurry, no details, black half-shirt...a...skirt? No, a towel wrapped around the waist. The head was small...no...hair. Jack. _He blinked twice rapidly and his vision cleared a bit._ Droplets of water on her face. Just showered? The towel. Right._

"Garrus."He had never heard her speak so quietly before. She had just stated his name; it was not a question.

"Mmm?" he replied. His mouth felt like he'd been eating sand.

She licked her lips and her eyes flickered away from him, then back, then down - everywhere but at him. "Today. The fight. Didn't know you were...ah, busted up pretty bad." The words came out slow, and then in a rush, like she was struggling to even be here.

She looked up and locked him with her eyes, stronger now. "I'm fine. It's cool."

She spun around and was gone.

* * *

"Transfer that to this." The man in the back of the shuttle passed forward a compact comm, an earpiece style. The co-pilot briefly took it and sync'd them, then passed the transfer over before handing the earpiece back. "All yours, sir." The man put the earpiece in, then spoke. "You have ten seconds to convince me not to terminate this call and eradicate these comm accounts." There was the sound of sucking air, a long pause, then exhaled breath - a cigarette. "You're an admirably difficult man to reach, Henry Lawson."

* * *

(*Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training)


	5. Calm Like a Bomb

Miranda stood alone in the observation desk of the Normandy, arms folded under her generous chest as she leaned against the viewport ledge, looking past her own reflection into the red glow that circled the base of Omega. The slowly rotating asteroid-city was the organized crime center of the galaxy; the dark twin of the Citadel, some described it. "The Heart of Evil" was the literal translation of the city's name, in the asari language. Shepard was down there now, sent here for the second time in a human month to retrieve an asset.

On the first occasion, it was to recover firepower, in the form of vigilante gang-killer "Archangel". Archangel, of course, turned out to be none other than Garrus Vakarian. The Illusive Man had obviously known, or had strong circumstantial evidence to indicate, that this was a target very much worthy of Shepard's interest. Indeed, Garrus' addition to the Normandy crew had put a purpose into Shepard's stride that had been missing since his awakening. Cerberus knew well that this particular N7 commando would fight harder for his friends then he could for any mission alone.

This time, there was some sort of plague running rampant that humans were suspiciously immune to. Now Shepard was back down on this hive of corruption, acquiring an asset of an entirely different sort. A Salarian scientist of wide renown for his brilliance, even among his species of intellectuals. Shepard had taken none of the Normandy's specialists with him, wishing to expose no non-humans to the unknown effects of this plague, picking up only his newest contracted crewmember today, the notorious bounty hunter Zaeed Massani. Cerberus had footed his, perhaps deservingly, exorbitant fee to acquire him for the continuing mission of the Lazarus Project.

Miranda herself had demanded to accompany him to Omega, logically stating that she herself was human and a perfect choice. In truth, the idea of letting him go out into a field mission without her made her churn with stress. For two years, he had been her complete responsibility; in all his various stages of recovery, never out of her sight during her waking hours. He had calmly reminded her that sending a top Cerberus agent - almost certainly known by those with access to intelligence data or significant criminal insiders - into a city being ravaged by a disease that only affected non-humans was a _very bad idea_. All of her arguments vaporized instantly. She was in a hopeless position and they both knew it.

Shepard, to his credit, offered to bring along Jacob if it would soothe her concerns. Unfortunately, she had to inform him that Jacob's recent history involved several violent situations connected to batarians, and Omega was crawling with them. The risk of him being personally recognized was too high, she had reluctantly admitted. Now, as she watched from the viewport as his shuttle left the Normandy to approach Omega, she wondered if this was how a parent felt, letting a precious child go to school alone for the first time. What a ridiculous thing to think.

"Be careful," she had said. And a ridiculous thing to say, with his entire persona built on his confident leadership style. _I'll lead from the front. I'd never give you an order I'd not follow myself. You'll never be asked to take a risk without knowing it's both unavoidable and critical._ Shepard was aggressive without being reckless. Getting the job done was paramount; surviving unscathed was desired but also merely a bonus. At the mess table, she had overheard Joker making a crack about Shepard's "stud hero generation field", where anyone that stood close to him was prone to turning into a fearless vid action star. Miranda, to her own surprise, had to bow her head to suppress a short laugh at the visual...there was an element of truth to it, certainly.

Miranda would have to trust that Zaeed was as good as his reputation would attest - and it indicated that he had unsurpassed toughness and survival instincts. That would serve him and Shepard well on Omega. Her focus shifted away from her thoughts and the sight of the distant asteroid-city, to the reflection of herself in the window. A striking woman with arched, shaped brows; icy eyes set in dark lashes; and pale, rose-shaped lips stared at her in return. An intelligent, valuable, perfectly gorgeous woman by any measure. _And everyone on this ship hated her._ _She died without a friend. The end._ The Cerberus operative shook her head to dismiss her own surprising thoughts, and turned her vision back to Omega. It was better to think of other things.

* * *

Ashley Williams yawned and stretched on her narrow, firm cot, under a standard gray blanket. All around her in the darkness was the sound of sleeping Alliance technicians, and the thrumming of the engines in the small Alliance troop transport. She rolled over, closed her eyes, and drifted back to sleep. The transport would arrive in Horizon's orbit before noon.

* * *

"Heeeey Garrus!" Joker leaned into the medical bay with a bright smile and wearing, as usual, his Alliance cap pulled low over his eyes. He was obviously hiding something behind his back, in the intentional way of saying _I'm hiding something_. "Dr. Chakwas has notified the crew that you're in good shape and we can visit as we please, you lucky guy." Garrus was propped up now in his bed in a reclining position, still with a thick bandage around one side of his neck and tucked under his right mandible. The turian rolled his eyes toward the ceiling for a moment before sighing in dramatic, wounded fashion. "Mind...so...foggy, where am I? Ah yes, it's coming back now. You're..." he tapped his chin for effect with one long talon "...Joker, is that correct? I remember now. Sarcastic pain in the ass? Extremely fragile?"

Joker smirked broadly, raised his eyebrows in return, and waited. After a moment Garrus blinked. "Riiiiiiiight I guess that describes both of us, at least as of late." Joker limped the rest of the way into the room, clearly happy that, at least personality-wise, Garrus was already back to his old self, setting himself up for self-mockery.

"Aw, don't feel bad about that. Just think how safe the rest of the team is, what with you graciously absorbing explosive ordinance at every opportunity."

Garrus chuckled, and shrugged with his good shoulder. "Well, we all have our roles. I'm the cigar-chomping grizzled rifleman. I bear the scars of many battles but you just _know_ I have a heart of gold."

"Have you been watching human westerns again? Without me? Ok, I'm the dashing and fearless pilot. With my goggles and long white scarf, I have a thankless job but everyone knows I make it all happen. On shore leave, I get free drinks and _all_ the bitches." Joker's eyes went to a far-off place as he spoke, his voice rising to an emotional whisper.

"Right, right. Miranda is the cold-hearted administrator who gives our rag-tag group contracts and missions. She's all about the bottom line, but just after we leave on yet another deadly assignment, she whispers _good luck, guys_ as the music plays."

Joker quirked up one eyebrow. "Wow, that's generous of you. I can more picture her whispering _now don't fuck it up, you good-for-nothing idiots_." Ok, so Zaeed is..."

"No, no! I wanted to describe Zaeed."

"Screw you, you picked Miranda and now I'm..."

"Mine would be _way_ better. I watched a Lee Marvin movie just this morning. What? You never saw _The Dirty Dozen_? That's like porn for a turian."

Joker held his hand up and backed away a step in mock horror. "Whoa...whoa, _stop_. You are seriously killing my not-creeped-out mood."

Garrus laughed in response to Joker's expression, then groaned and held his side where a broken rib had only partially healed through Osteoblast stimulation and accelerated mineralization. "Owwww...ok, let's stop. I need to modify my armor before the next mission. Maybe I'll tape a layer of medi-gel packets all over it."

"I can assure you that would offer minimal additional protection, Mr. Vakerian."

Joker frowned up into the air. "That was a joke, EDI. Jeez. Ok, moving on with the subject of your armor - we fixed your helmet. I mean, Jacob did most of the engineering work required - I just painted it and did a few custom details."

Revealing the item he'd kept behind his back, Joker held the turian's helmet up proudly. The entire unit had been re-painted with obvious care and sparkled with metallic navy blue. The visor had been re-fabricated and had a mirror-like finish. On the right side of the face, near where the jaw line would be for a human, there had been painted a small logo. A white bulls-eye pierced by an arrow.

* * *

Sitting in the perpetual red-yellow glow of the dying supergiant Anadius, the Illusive Man smoked contentedly in his chair. Below him, the vast mirrored floor extended into the fading light until vanishing into blackness. The smoking man looked calm; content even. Despite some hard feelings in the past, when Dr. Lawson had abruptly separated himself from his relationship with Cerberus, he was now back in the fold. His reasons for leaving were perfectly understandable.

Cerberus had granted his prized, manufactured daughter asylum after her violent rebellion and escape. It had been a calculated risk to acquire one asset at the loss of another, but this way he also had a card to play. Reeling the Doctor back in would be as simple as returning Miranda to him should she ever prove to not be as useful as he anticipated. Later, the existence of Oriana had only improved Cerberus' position. Why have one card to play when you could have two?

T'Soni's supposedly secure communication to Shepard had alerted him to Lawson's operation on Sanctum. Focusing Cerberus' intelligence resources on the location, he had in quick order discerned the nature of the research. Acquiring full control of the research had been as simple as allowing the asari information broker's communication to proceed unhindered, after a strategic delay. Shepard had taken care of the rest by spooking Henry into taking ruthless action to cover his tracks, preserving only his three most senior research assistants and the most crucial of data.

Cerberus could now dangle the carrot of assisting with an accelerated restart of his research, with a site and resources. Combined with the sweetener of offering a chance to reclaim Oriana, now he owned both Miranda and her father, while giving up almost nothing. He took a sip of his scotch in satisfaction. As he severed the communication, the Illusive Man offered the geneticist a simple direction. "Inform me when you've reached Horizon."

* * *

The Blood Pack were populating the underworld of Omega in greater numbers than even Mordin had estimated. Not that he minded. Mordin's proposed cure for Omega's plague was in a protective case strapped to his back, and he and Zaeed were fighting their way to an environmental control room in order to release it throughout the station. All that was left was the doing. Shepard rounded a corner in this service hall and dove into the middle of five vorcha mercenaries, catching them unawares. In an instant, he cataloged their positioning, relative armaments and armor, and potential signs of any of them being exceptional or inferior. The confines of the hall were noted, potential cover and quality of said cover, and points of entrance and egress for reinforcements or retreat. These five were already dead; all that remained was to make it happen.

Using the momentum from the running charge, his inertia was enhanced by his infamous onyx N7 armor. He smashed the butt of the heavy M-6 Carnifex Hand Cannon into the face of a flamethrower-wielding vorcha, now mentally labeled Target One in his mind. The tremendous blow from the magnum handgun shattered its needle-like teeth into dozens of pieces, the sound not unlike hurling a cheap wine glass into a brick wall. Continuing his momentum, he rode the broken-faced beast down until it heavily crunched onto its back. The creature fought to draw in breath despite Shepard's armored knee ramming into its chest, but the miserable thing only succeeded in sucking its own broken fangs into its throat.

The N7 commando spared an instant to consider the others. Target Two, a scarred old one, recovered quickly and ripped a battered Katana shotgun from his shoulder. His quick reaction time would serve to doom him; Shepard was looking to kill the skilled ones first. Still kneeling on his first target, the Spectre fired the M-6 point-blank into its unarmored stomach. The heavy handgun roared with a tremendous flash, and a dinner-plate sized hole exploded out of its back, showering two of its companions with misted blood and bits of gore. They recoiled in shock and pawed at their eyes, blinded by the spray of vital fluids. He noted that they could now be safely ignored for a few seconds.

As the gutted Two fell into a hollowed-out heap at his side, Shepard shot to his feet and seized Five by the back of the neck with his left hand. With inhuman strength born from billions of Cerberus credits poured into his now-cybernetic body, he rocketed his armored right knee up and buried it into its midsection. A sickening crunching sound was matched by pink-flecked saliva spraying out of its mouth as lungs collapsed and ribs were crushed. Vorcha Five make a horrific wet sucking noise, and went limp to drop straight to the floor. Or, more accurately, it would have.

Shepard yanked Five back vertical as bloodied Four finally reacted to this deadly threat, drawing and aiming a pistol. The commando spun Five around and clamped his forearm under its neck as it wheezed and writhed in place, its feet helplessly scratching at the ground. His unwilling, mortally wounded shield absorbed four shots from its Blood Pack stablemate, jumping and jerking from the neck down as Shepard's iron grip held it still. A single blast from the M-6 in return blew out half of Four's neck, and it flopped to the ground like a puppet with strings suddenly snipped.

The Normandy's commander twisted while looking down and behind him, and fired his hand cannon into the first vorcha with the busted face, who had just been getting up slowly with one taloned hand clamped to his bloody mouth. Without looking to see the results of that shot he returned his gaze to the front, and the M-6 detonated in his hand twice more. Vorcha Three, only just having wiped its eyes clear, went down limply on the spot and grew a red puddle. With no more immediate targets except for his barely-living shield, he tossed it aside without care, where it fell to the ground and barely twitched. From the side entrance behind and to his left, two more of the rat-like aliens ran in, drawn by the sound of gunfire.

The two Blood Pack mercs hesitated at the sight of the coal-black armored soldier, iconic red and white stripes running down one arm, and standing in a semicircle of bloodied and broken fellow vorcha. A barrage of heavy shots sounded and the newcomers shuddered and jerked in place, as pieces of them were punched out and scattered against the walls. Splashes of blood rained down all around them and soaked the concrete floor. Zaeed, only meters behind Shepard and tucked into a shadow, jogged forward and booted the one still-standing merc in the chest, knocking it off its feet, where it writhed on the floor weakly for a second before going still. "You are _dead _so sit th' fuck down!" he graveled out in his unique voice, sounding like two heavy, smooth stones sliding against each other.

Three more vorcha hissed and snarled from the adjoining tunnel as they ran in with weapons drawn...and ran directly into Zaeed's thrown incendiary grenade. They went up in a cloud of greasy-looking flame, flailing around and screeching for a moment before falling into the inferno, where the intense fire obscured the bodies as they curled and charred. Zaeed lowered his smoking, battered M-96 Mattock heavy rifle and took in the carnage surrounding Shepard with his one good eye. The roaring fire from his own grenade lit his face in flickering orange light. "Goddamn, Shepard. Did somethin' go an' piss in yer breakfast t'day?".

The target of his question shook his helmeted head as he reloaded his huge handgun, his eyes unreadable behind the visor. "Let's get it done and get off this pisshole rock." The scarred, tough old bounty hunter muttered something about how they could have used him during that shoot-up on Keimowitz - whatever the hell that meant.

Truth told, Shepard thought, he _was_ in a sour mood. On Omega, desperation was a common fact of life. There were approximately eight or nine million beings here of every conceivable race, and a great many were living in squalor, too poor to go anywhere else. If you walked away from the main causeways into the rust-colored underbelly, the sick, dying, and hopeless were everywhere. Shepard could handle saving the galaxy; he could _understand_ that. He knew helping an endless number of individuals was beyond his resources and ability, and he felt helpless about it, impotent. Venting his helpless anger upon mercenary vorcha seemed like an easy solution.

The undead Spectre and the grizzled mercenary proceeded forward. Unstoppable and bringing death to a hundred. And then, with Mordin's cure, allowing life for many thousands.


	6. Time Heals Nothing

The captain of the _Normandy_ was experiencing a rare time when he had little to do. It was late in the second of the three duty shifts and the ship was quiet, other than the thrum of the engines and the occasional shudder through the ship as Joker launched a mining probe. Shepard sat in his cabin on his corner couch, slumped back and his legs straight out to the floor, crossed at the ankles. A single bottle of cold, genuine Earth beer was on the table before him, and he was savoring every drop of it.

While on Omega, Kelly had placed orders with dozens of vendors, organizing a case of luxury supplies to be brought to the Normandy as a boost to crew morale. For the captain, that had included exactly six bottles of - Shepard looked at the label again; he had no idea how to pronounce this - _Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier_. It was marvelous. Anything that unpronounceable just had to be amazing.

Some wines had gone to both Dr. Chakwas and Kasumi. Species-specific edible delicacies for Garrus, Thane, Mordin, and Grunt. Beyond special alcohols, he had seen cheeses and cigars, and who knows what else was flying around as the crew excitedly unpacked the thing like it was Christmas morning. Shepard had been surprised that Miranda had signed off on the entire purchase order without complaint.

_Stop it. You really think stupid distractions will work forever? You miss her. It hurts. You can't run away from it. _The tension at the edges of his awareness swept back in as he allowed a painful memory to return to the forefront. He and Liara, they had been drawn to each other immediately; they both seemed to provide what the other lacked. The young asari was a highly educated scholar, isolated for much of her life researching prothean relics. Innocent-minded but endlessly curious and open to new concepts and ideas, she was socially shy and prone to avoiding strangers; a holdover from a childhood of taunts about her racially pure heritage.

He was a soldier, an intelligent and elite one to be sure, but accustomed to hardships and a regimented life. He had been hardened in mind and body by agonies suffered long before his path had led him to stepping aboard the _Normandy_ for the first time. Still, they had shared an optimistic and hopeful outlook; they believed the best in others until proven otherwise. She had been fascinated by her first close friendship with a human; a heroic leader touched by prothean memories, no less. He, in return, had been attracted by her wonder and openness, and later, her core of resolve, even as she had discovered it for herself.

Together, they had stolen back the _Normandy _from being grounded by the Council, and desperately raced to the prothean homeworld. The entire crew had sensed that finally, this was it. They would face the agent of Sovereign on this day. Perhaps facing the ends of their lives, Liara and he pushed through the barriers of the things they had left unsaid, and had confessed their feelings for each other. In what, to his recollection now, seemed like a blurred whirlwind of an evening, they had made love; her first time with anyone. There had been a first for him, as well - in the most indescribably beautiful thing he had ever experienced, they had joined their nervous systems and minds; exchanging thoughts, feelings and memories.

Five weeks later, Shepard was dead, and Liara was abruptly cast adrift into a life without direction.

Shepard had never told anyone just how perfectly the Lazarus Project had succeeded. He remembered it all, to the very last moment. His lungs had emptied and nothing could fill them. In the last fading seconds, as he entered the top of Alchera's atmosphere, alternating sides of his armor froze or seared his flesh. There was nothing left to breathe, nowhere to go, nothing to be done. He tried to scream, but nothing came forth.

* * *

Shepard bolted up and briefly flailed his arms and legs, only stopping when his knee painfully struck the underside of his small table and sent the forgotten beer bottle flying. It smashed on the floor and the flat, warm contents puddled out lazily. His heart was leaping in his chest, and Shepard sucked in a deep, shuddering breath._ Nightmare. _That_ one again. _He flopped back down flat on his back, and wiped his sweaty face with his hands. A quiet, electronic chime sounded, indicating an internal request for voice com. _A call? Is that what woke me? _He tilted his head back and looked at his bedside clock, now upside down in his vision. Two hours had just vanished.

Another beep. Shepard stood up and wobbled for a moment, dizzy, then sat down heavily on his bed and tapped the communicator. "Yeah, Shepard here." He tried to not sound as shaken as he felt.

"Hey." The word was quick, with an urgency, and it took him a moment to recognize who it might be. It was Jack.

"Hey Jack."

"Shepard...come see me." The link severed. Shepard groaned and flopped back on the bed, exhausted. Her few words had been charged with energy, though; whatever it was, it was important. It damn well better be.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Jack was pacing with agitation around her storage room in engineering, ranting as she went from corner to corner, gesturing wildly as she went. "...history with Cerberus, do you know how far back it goes, how sick it was? Your pal, The Illusive Man? Never saw him before, but Cerberus raised me. My first memory is my cell door in a Cerberus base. They did experiments. Drugged me. Tortured me. Whatever chance I had to be normal, they stole it by trying to turn me into some sort of fucking super-biotic. The doctors...the other kids...every one of them hated me. They let me suffer." She rubbed her scalp nervously as she stalked back and forth. If she'd had the hair for it, he imagined she'd be ripping at it in feverish distress.

Rubbing his bleary eyes, Shepard didn't want to ask, but he had to. "You're _certain_ it was Cerberus?"

Jack stopped pacing and stared at him, as if to dare him to not believe her. "I may have been a kid, but I wasn't dumb. I knew how to listen. They thought they were soooo clever." A wolfish grin that didn't reach her eyes. "Turns out, you mess with someone's head enough and you can turn a scared little girl into an all-powerful bitch. Those _fucking idiots_." she spat the words.

Shepard sat on her stairs, and nodded slowly. "Okay. Okay, Jack. Tell me what I can do."

The installation on Pragia was broken, battered, overgrown, and crumbling. The night storm that lashed the building with hail and lightning lit up the interior in flashes of pure white. Some of the walls had tumbled down, desks and chairs were overturned everywhere, and it looked like a corporate building after a severe earthquake. In this case, the force of nature in question had been Subject Zero. Shepard thought back to how terrifyingly unhinged she had been on Purgatory, and what sort of primal rage she must have unleashed here upon this hated place. Here, not even the vacuum of space would have been a deterrent to her desire for total destruction. Nor would there have been Shepard's appearance to have talked her down from killing every living thing cowering in these walls.

* * *

_Blood Pack again_, he thought sourly. Blood Pack took the jobs that organizations such as the Blue Suns had the brains or taste to turn down. Now they were here, in an abandoned Cerberus research facility with the darkest of histories. Rooting like vultures through the rubble of this black place for simple salvage, and evidently finding little. The massive krogan leader they had encountered had barked into his comm complaints about the lack of riches here, to someone named "Aresh", then had attacked them. Evidently Shepard, Jack, and Thane were a mere annoyance to be dealt with.

Concussive shots and grenades had impacted his cover, a steel divider for a broad walkway bisecting this cavernous room, which could have been an enclosed internal park in times past. It had been glassed in, walls and ceiling both, but most of those were shattered now, and pools of water and encroaching plant life were everywhere. Krogan and vorcha both had charged through the falling rain streaming in from the broken structure above, open to the night sky, and were threatening to overwhelm their positions. The battle was perhaps six seconds old.

A vorcha, wearing two large tanks of flammable fluids on its back, eagerly rushed in by going along the outside wall, then jumping back in through one of the large broken windows that ran from floor to ceiling, thinking to flank the new intruders and bring it's flamethrower to bear. It was useless unless at close range, but it delighted in seeing humans dance and burn and scream.

It never saw the shadowed drell until it ran directly past him, and the short burst of submachine gun fire struck it directly in the back, impacting the tanks. It skidded to a halt and spun around to find nothing. It spun around again, in a complete circle. Nothing at all, and finally it looked down to see it had painted itself a flaming circle of leaking stupid creature exploded, the pierced and burning tanks finally rupturing and sending flaming chunks of the suddenly former mercenary in a large radius in all directions.

Multiple vorcha were swarming in, seeking to hem Shepard and Jack into a standing concrete corner, but the N7 commando didn't allow the enemy to control the battlefield - not today and not ever. Waiting for the right moment, legs tensing with coiled power, he pointed vigorously at the opening in front of him, with exaggerated gestures, which was about to be filled by the incoming Blood Pack mercs.

"Jack, Shockwave!"

Without hesitation, she screamed her way through the expressive uppercut arm-motion; face twisted in pain with the effort to channel the spiked energy output pumping through her bioamp. Shepard erupted from cover and sprinted out just behind the blinding telekinetic eruptions that blasted forward, his teeth aching from being so close to the dark energy fields. _Jesus, she's _loaded_ with power._ Water, stone, pieces of jungle plants, and four vorcha mercs were tossed high into the air as the blue explosions crawled forward. As the four slammed back into the ground, they each were cratered by blasts from his Hand Cannon. Ending the run, he hit the ground and slid into a concrete barrier, dropping the heatsink from the hot handgun and slapping in a replacement. _I could get used to this. _He'd lost track of the krogan leader in the shockwave-rush, and needed to update his situational awareness of the battlefield.

Before he could rise, a rocket blasted over his cover, leaving a trail of soot as it shot across the room to detonate into Jack's hastily erected barrier. Past the flames of the explosion, he saw her biotic shield shimmer and fade as she was thrown back and out of sight. Jumping to his feet and breaking to the right side, he flanked the rocket launcher-wielding vorcha and pumped two rounds into it before it could reload. Up a half-level, at the top of a short staircase, several more enemies milled about, firing from cover in his direction.

He advanced again, dodging from cover to cover as he went, drawing attention from Jack as he drew closer to the fallback position of the remaining Blood Pack units. He didn't know where Thane was but he didn't spare any worry. The deadly assassin knew his trade better than anyone, and Shepard had instructed the drell to freelance, using himself and Jack as diversions. Hearing now the snarl of Thane's submachine gun; the curses and insults of Jack as she jumped back to her feet; he allowed himself to think the tide had turned. Time to find that krogan.

Shepard charged up the steps and hit a blind left corner, intending to open fire on the unprotected side of the remaining force. From the shuttle's pilot seat, he could hear Jacob's voice in his ear but could not understand the words. Tapping his helmet, he requested a repeat as he ran.

Distracted, Shepard got one step into the opening and the Blood Pack leader drilled him with a full running charge. He was lifted from his feet, his pistol spinning away as the krogan wrapped him in a bearhug and blasted them together through the outside wall. The concrete, damaged and exposed to the elements for a decade, exploded into wet chunks as they both fell into the external grounds of the Teltin facility. Shepard hit the rain-slicked tangle of jungle growth hard, tearing and sliding through it for several meters before coming to a stop flat on his back, stunned.

For a moment there was silence, the stars danced and swam in the night sky above, and he felt the cool rain soak his lower face. _Helmet is halfway off._ He was looking out of the slot where his mouth usually was, the chin guard up and pressed against the underside of his nose. He drew a breath and was rewarded with agony as stars sparkled in his vision, the edges darkening. _Pass out and die. The krogan will be on __you, he'll finish it. Get up, soldier. _Somewhere deep inside of him, he could feel a distant tingling activity. _Is that what nanobots feel like? I've not been hurt since I came back._ As he hitched himself up on one elbow, the stars became obscured by a huge form. The massive krogan blocked out the rain as it hulked over him, his technical armor glowing with red shield emitters. Shepard raised his head just to catch a heavy backhand that flashed his vision with white light, sending his helmet spinning into the darkness.

* * *

Without sound, change of expression, or visible effort, Thane flowed from shadow to shadow like a ghost. A burst of gunfire here, a biotic push here - he harried and wounded a half-dozen opponents, drawing their fire to spots he no longer occupied. Though vastly outnumbering the three Normandy crewmen, the Blood Pack could not put effective fire on them. The drell was a wraith, killing without making himself known. The black-armored human was alternating between seeking quality cover and aggressive charges, firing with unnatural accuracy.

Only the screaming, glowing woman was holding her position, howling taunts and insults to draw them in. Those who approached within range of her biotics were lifted by blue arcs of power and, fueled by her shrieks of rage, slammed viciously into the concrete walls to be crushed and shattered. Jack was a frenzied goddess of death, surrounded by a macabre temple of mangled corpses; the cowardly vorcha quickly lost all interest in going anywhere near her.

A vorcha with an old and battered grenade launcher hefted it up, set his bloodshot eye to the simple sights, and his taloned finger yanked at the trigger. A scaled hand seized the front of the weapon and levered it vertical, and the grenade shot directly up into the ceiling. The stunned vorcha refocused its eyes and looked into the reptilian, calm face of Thane Krios, the preeminent assassin of the galaxy. As the grenade exploded above them both and illuminated them in a brilliant orange glow, Thane released the weapon and pulled the creature close, tightly into a brotherly embrace. His unseen pistol pushed deeply into its midsection and two muffled shots were fired. The drell slipped away without another sound. Rock and dust from above rained down on the vorcha, alone as it fell.

* * *

The huge krogan battlemaster rumbled a quiet laugh as he fell to his knees on the writhing human, pinning him to the jungle floor with his weight. He now recognized the human as the infamous Commander Shepard, Hero of the Citadel, First Human Spectre, bearer of the Star of Terra, and many other lesser honors that had put his face in the galactic media many times over. He wore the N7 logo on the black armor; those colors he'd made renowned as his trademark. It would be Kureck's great honor to kill him with his bare hands. What breath Shepard had in him flew from his lungs as the krogan sat right on his waist, straddling him. "Time to die, Shepard...this will make me a warlord.", the bassy voice graveled out as his huge fist - the size of two of the human's own - descended to the Spectre's unprotected face.

_Krogan. Close range, melee engagement. Short arm length relative to torso width, blows will come from sides, not above. Cool, be cool, let the arms take it. Use the armor. Trust your strength. _The first punch thundered into his left forearm, driving it painfully into his face but absorbing much of the energy out of the blow. Shepard raised his forearms again alongside his temples, forcing his eyes to remain open against all instinct, and waiting as calmly as he could for the next strike.

Repeatedly, he deflected or partially absorbed tremendous hits, but he was wearing down. His nose felt broken and twisted, one eye was swelling closed - he could hear the crunch of bone from that blow - and his arms were growing rubbery with numbness and exhaustion. His mouth was filled with the coppery taste of his own blood. The krogan laughed again. "You are as tough as your reputation would suggest, human - _krogan_ tough even - but you cannot win this." Lightning flashed, briefly searing into his memory the mountainous, grinning dinosaur that was slowly killing him, then all was blackness.

Steeling himself for the next strike, Shepard peered between his battered arms and blinked. Around the bulky silhouette of Kureck, a blue glow faintly grew behind him, becoming brighter as the source of the light closed the distance. The krogan raised his fist again, now clearly outlined, and paused as he saw the change in the human's expression. Shepard rasped out his reply through clenched, blood-red teeth, twisted into a wolfish grin.

"Wasn't trying...to win...stupid...I was...buying time."

The krogan blinked at the unexpectedly defiant reply, and his brow furrowed. From behind, the source of the blue glow hissed words laced with spite.

"Fly, you _fuck_."

The krogan was seized by arcs of cobalt energy and effortlessly lifted in the air, his sudden void clearing the view to Jack, feet set widely apart, arms lifted straight up into the air. Biotic lightning flowed over her like icy water; forks of energy lept from limb to limb before dancing to the ground. Shepard raised his hand to his eyes, nearly blinded by Jack's brilliance; a blue sun in the black night. Next to her, visible as he entered the glowing area all around her, stood Jacob, as too looking up at the thrashing, cursing krogan. On her other side, Thane appeared, looking skyward serenely. The two men, as one, also ignited their biotic energy and raised their hands as Thane buzzed his words without emotion.

"Go to the sea."

Moments later, while Teltin sported a new krogan-shaped hole in its walls, Thane and Jacob pulled their shaky commander to his feet. Jack wordlessly turned away and jumped over the sill of a broken window to disappear back inside. Shepard closed his remaining functional eye and turned his bloody face to the rain as his heartbeat thumped painfully in his skull. The cold water drizzling his face washed away the hot blood, stinging the cuts but soothing the coloring bruises. Shaking his head, Jacob spoke first. "Damn, Shepard, why are you alive right now? That big bastard had at least two minutes on you while we fought our way past the Blood Pack. I'd only just run in the original entrance 'cause I heard all the shooting start up, and I barely got in the door when he put you through the wall."

Shepard bent over at the waist for a moment, battered hands on his knees, and breathed deeply and slowly. "Turtled up...just tried to keep him...from landing a really...good one..."

"I would not have imagined that experience to be survivable, Commander," Thane added, while reaching into the tangled brush and retrieving Shepard's black helmet.

The N7 commando nodded, still bent and facing the wet soil at his feet. "I don't especially want...to do that again. Jacob...get the package...meet us inside." Straightening and steeling himself with a deep breath that blossomed aches through his torso, Shepard walked gingerly into the building, picked up his dropped pistol, and proceeded in deeper to find Jack.

* * *

Working down to her room was an emotional experience. Security recordings confirmed some of her memories and contradicted others. Jack was growing frustrated and defensive at the errors in her recollection, possibly resulting from Cerberus having damaged her mind even more then she had thought. Every room seemed to reveal a new horror, either with the contents remaining or her narration of the events that had taken place there.

"I never saw this room. I think these containers are how they brought in the new kids. They were messed up, starving, but alive. Usually."

"I remember escaping to this room, fighting. I saw sunlight through the cracks in the ceiling. Didn't know what it was, didn't know about sunlight yet. Only a half-dead guard between me and freedom. He was begging for his life."

"An arena. They used to stage fights here. Pit me against other kids. I loved it. Only time out of my cell. Filled me with drugs first. Other stuff. Don't know how often. Time got weird."

Shepard dared a question, not looking forward to the answer. "Did the other kids die in these fights?"

"They shocked me if I hesitated. Narcotics and...other stuff flooded my veins when I attacked. I still get, y'know, warm feelings in a fight." Shepard's swollen face twisted in a ferocious scowl. _Those fucking bastards_.

Down the stairs and around a corner, Jack again found new rooms she had never seen. "Why would they need a dedicated morgue? This is a small facility.", Shepard asked himself aloud.

Thane replied in his low buzzing rattle. "The other children must have died in great numbers, then the staff could check their results here."

They walked down a long hallway, both sides lined with tiny identical cells. Each barely had room for two stacked beds, otherwise they were featureless. "They kept children in these?" Shepard had never heard disbelief from Thane's voice before.

They were on a catwalk, of sorts, over a courtyard. Below them, on one side, was a large mirrored window. "What? That's a two-way mirror? My cell is on the other side. I pounded on the glass for hours, screaming myself hoarse at the other kids, for hours. They always ignored me. Now I know why. Fuck those bastards for doing that to me."

They found a recording - a technician talked about experiments where they had subjected the children to reduced temperature. There had been no benefit to biotic strength, and the children had died. Thus, this procedure would not progress to Subject Zero. He lamented that they were going through their supply of biotic children quickly. Shepard thought Jack's composure would break now, if it was going to. The morgue full of tiny beds had held the results of her being protected from untested implants. Instead she turned away, her face impassive; completely shut down.

"We're getting close now. To my cell, the place I came from."

Shepard had to talk Jack down from shooting Aresh in the head, right there on the spot. Pleading with her with reason, she eventually accepted that the man didn't have the ability to restart the Teltin project; he was just a broken mind seeking answers. Her trembling hand lowered the Predator handgun from his temple, and with a curse she allowed him to flee. Now they stood outside the broken door of a room dominated by a single large window, showing a courtyard of sorts. Jack leaned in the doorway, reluctant to enter and breathing fast to control her rising panic attack.

"This room was my whole childhood...give me...a minute."

Thane stepped back from the doorway. "This...is a highly personal experience for you, warrior. I am intruding. I will go to the shuttle and assist Mr. Taylor with the explosive."

He retreated to the end of the hall, Jack watching his back thoughtfully before nodding her unseen thanks in his direction. Shepard also took a step away from the door as if to retreat and give her space, but she froze him with a look. With a small motion of her head, she gestured for him to follow inside.

After they entered, Jack knelt next to a faded, dented stain on the metal wall. "See the scarring here? This is where I killed my first man. One of the guards tried to stop me. I stopped _him_."

She walked to the large window, now known to be a mirror on the other side. "I thought the room out there was...the entire world. I'd pound and yell, it never...did any good." Her voice was cracking repeatedly with the effort of speaking.

There was a small bed in the corner, and Jack walked to it then stopped, looking down. "Sometimes I dream I'm back in this bed being tortured. I want to stop coming back here." She knelt, reaching up and under the bed and feeling around the frame. The biotic pulled out a small, folded scrap of foil wrap, and stared at it with wide eyes for a moment, then rammed it into her pocket and stood again.

There was a small, simple desk against the wall. "I used this table for everything." She slowly ran the fingertips of one hand over the length of the top as she walked beside it. "It was like my best friend. I'd...crawl under it to cry. I was pathetic."

Shepard wanted to run from the room and vomit. This was invading her private soul, seeing things that nobody should have access to. "Don't say that. You were a child."

She put both palms on the desk, leaning forward, her head bowed. "Fuck this place. Let's blow it to hell."

* * *

In the shuttle, as they flew over the surface of Pragia, into the storm and away from Teltin, Jack held the remote. Jack flicked the safety cover open and closed repeatedly while staring at Shepard..._tic-click, tic-click, tic-click._ When he judged the distance to be adequate, he nodded firmly at Jack, and banged on the cockpit door to warn the pilots. Jack rammed the button down.


	7. Watch the World Burn

In the meager red glow of a cluttered storage room, deep inside the Normandy SR-2's engineering section, humanity's most powerful biotic nearly stumbled as she carelessly ran down the stairs, taking the steps in a hurried rush. Tearing off her leather jacket, she dropped it on her cot, and knelt before it as she blindly dug into the pockets. She pulled out small scraps of foil, paper, and plastic and made a small pile on the bed, then tossed the jacket away into a darkened corner.

Using one finger, she sorted through the pieces before coming up with a shiny silver foil piece. Jack licked her lips once, her heart thudding in her chest as she tried to imagine the amount of time that had passed since she'd last touched this tiny possession. The years had passed unrecorded in her featureless upbringing, and after the escape, her chaotic adult life. She could estimate it had been eight to twelve years since she had hidden this scrap away from the world. Picking up the folded foil packet, Jack stood and took two quick steps to thump into the cold metal wall with her shoulder, just next to a red service light she would use for her reading lamp.

Unfolding it with trembling hands, she squinted at the crumpled little sheet in her hands, half the size of a playing card, before irritably pressing it to the wall to smooth it out..._gently you fucking idiot!_...then peering at it again while holding it close enough to the crimson emergency lamp that Jack could feel the feeble warmth radiating from it. The foil sheet was a piece of wrapper from a long-ago discarded ration bar, and she had seized it with small child's hands and concealed it in her room. She had folded it over itself several times and wedged the tiny prize up and under her bed, where it had fit into a tiny gap where the frame met one of the legs.

It was, for some time, her only possession that was truly hers. Everything else in her entire existence had been at the whim of cruel Cerberus guards and technicians, and "doctors" who had abandoned interest in assisting the sick. When she had escaped, it had taken her some time to understand that "doctor" and "torturer" were not two words used to describe an identical occupation. Later, she had managed to squirrel away other bits and pieces - not even enough to fill a pocket - but this had been the first one.

There were tiny etched letters on the foil where she had used the edge of a broken button, ripped from a doctor's coat when she had freed a hand from a restraint. That little button had earned her a terrible beating, but the cost had been worth it. She had gained a mechanism of expression; a way to record her own existence, to be able to scratch words upon it - to gain the tiny hope that if she died here, this would be found.

This discarded piece of garbage, this worthless refuse, was the only thing that had made the young girl feel that she could leave a mark on this world. In all other ways, when they eventually killed her and discarded her body into the ovens, it would be like she had never been. Except maybe the implants they picked from the ashes. Bringing the foil inches from her nose, she took a slow, deep breath. She whispered a curse at her shaking hands, then read the words silently.

* * *

Her elbows and knees painfully digging into the dirty concrete floor, Subject Zero clutched the scrap of ration wrapper in a balled fist and pressed it against her forehead. Long auburn hair formed a protective ring around her face, a tiny dark cave that was just for her alone. The guard's armored fist seized a handful of that long hair, and as he laughed he wrenched her up and backwards; she would have fallen onto her back except for the steel grip of the much larger man holding her up. She was thirteen years old.

"Heard you had some mistakes on your tests today, Zero. I don't know why they waste time showin' books and shit to a little maniac like you, though. Teachin' you reading and what the fuck else, as if a little monster like you needs that." His voice was digitized and filtered to anonymize it; he sounded distant and coldly impersonal despite the personal insults.

Like all people who interacted with Zero while she was unrestrained, he wore full armor at all times, even when her amps were deactivated and the drugs for docility were flowing in her. He cuffed her across the mouth with his gauntleted hand and she felt her upper lip split, and blood swimming around her teeth. The guard bent down to address her closely, his fully enclosed helmet and mirrored visor showing her the crimson stain on her lips; the black eye; the hair matted to her face with sweat, and the single, involuntary tear that shamed her.

"You look alright with those big puffy lips, Zero. You're gonna be big enough to fuck pretty soon. Me and the guys, we've been talking 'bout that. Maybe we'll play a card game to see who goes first." Subject Zero's eyes ignited with anger, and she spat a bloody wad into that visor. "Go fuck..._yourself_," the child hissed. She didn't know precisely what the word meant, but the guards used it like an insult; a weapon of a word. That was ok, she could use it too. After a moment of surprise, he laughed and drew back his arm, bringing the armored fist back in hard.

Subject Zero cracked open her good eye, her face pressed against the cold concrete, her hair glued to it by the sticky blood that had flowed from her nose, forming a crusty circle her face now rested in. Without moving, she took stock of the room. _Listen...don't breathe. Don't even breathe._ _Nothing. Dark. I'm alone._ Without moving otherwise, she slowly pulled her arm up, bringing her hand up to her face and opening it. The folded piece of foil was still there. The eye closed again, and a smile touched her bruised lips.

* * *

Typically, after a ground mission, and especially those that included combat, the majority of the specialist crew would gather for team discussion. Mistakes were admitted, actions were praised, alternate choices were offered, and strategies were offered. After Pragia, things were different. Shepard went into medical without a word and stayed there, brushing off a visit from from Garrus with a shake of the head and a look that said _later_. Jack had hurriedly fled to the bottom of the ship without looking up from the floor, nearly pushing people from her path. Jacob had shrugged and explained he had missed most of the facility, and on the flight back to the Normandy nobody had said a word. That left Thane.

The quiet drell had written up a report and submitted it to Miranda, who had not exited her office since. When Thane returned to the main room, over a dozen people had looked to him expectantly. He had nodded in a resigned way and took a seat at the main mess table. In his buzzing, even voice, mostly devoid of emotion, he relayed in clinical detail the path they had walked through Teltin Facility. After a few minutes of speaking, vaguely wording events to try to maintain as much of Jack's privacy as possible, he involuntarily slipped into a moment of his direct memory.

"_A morgue. A room that had seen countless horrors visited upon the helpless. A dozen small metal tables, sized for children. They have been brought in, used, tested, killed, studied. She fights to deny the guilt, but now knows it was all for her. This child, raised in a cage for a life that will know only pain without reason. Her eyes tell me she only wants to escape her own mind."_

Thane blinked, clear lids snapping sideways, then looked up. Everyone was very still, almost not breathing. After a moment, he spoke again. "I apologize. Shepard and Jack went to the room she was raised in, while I remained outside. I don't know what they spoke of but I expect it was as...abhorrent as the rest."

Silence. After a moment, Garrus turned and walked up the tunnel to the gunnery room, limping slightly. Slowly, everyone faded away and Thane was by himself at the table. He rested his elbows on the table, steepling his hands together in front of his face, touching his forehead. "The darkness between the stars is enormous," he murmured to the empty air.

* * *

Shepard willed himself not to wince as Dr. Chakwas gently unwrapped the left side of his face. She had temporarily put him under sedation, then raced the clock to repair the fractured synthetic bones of his skull, even as his cybernetics fought against the drugs. One forearm was wrapped in a plastic sheath which circulated cold water to reduce swelling and soothe the pain of the soft tissue damage; the other was immobilized in a hard plastic brace to protect the cracked bone. "Well, Commander, considering the circumstances of the report I received from Thane - which might I add, was exceedingly precise - you're a lucky man. Such an incident should lead to me reading that report while standing over a corpse with a flattened head. Being held down and punched repeatedly by a krogan battlemaster and living to tell the tale should not be taken lightly."

This corner of the medbay had been cleared for less than 12 hours, from Garrus' release to Shepard's entry. "Besides all the tissue damage to your face and arms, you broke your orbital bone..." At his look, she explained by tapping just to the outside edge of her own eye. "The human eye socket is made of seven connected pieces of bone. Right here, there are two which were crushed, and that is why your eye was swollen nearly shut. I also had to re-anchor three of your teeth."

Shepard nodded absently as she talked, thinking about what he had learned on Pragia that day, and feeling revulsion roll around in his stomach. He had been driven for so long with an impossible-sounding, yet simple, mandate: defeat the Reapers and preserve life. Fighting Saren, the Geth, and the Collectors were all merely obstacles in that original path. For the first time, he felt his resolve crumbling on this point. How could the Reapers be more evil than what he had learned today? _Do you try and save such a race as this?_

Shepard had encountered many despicable beings, and many tragic events, starting with Mindoir seventeen years ago, but this was beyond his imagination. Beyond what he thought humanity was capable of doing to itself. _What else is there left to discover that I'm ignorant of?_ _Are there other places like that?_ _Are children somewhere enduring a place like that at this very minute?_ Dr. Chakwas fussing over him only made it worse - he was thinking, never had a person walked out of Teltin so unscarred as he. All things were relative, and relatively speaking, he didn't have a scratch.

* * *

Setting the foil down on the makeshift bed she had created, Jack fumbled for her main datapad. She logged into an extranet location she'd not used in years, since she had made an account here during her pirate days, a previous life before her imprisonment on the starship Purgatory. She fumbled at the letters on the transparent screen, looking back and forth to the scrap of material to make sure she transcribed the words perfectly. She distantly noted that when her child self had written "world," she had been referring to the rooms of Pragia she had seen - there was no other world in her existence beyond that. When she was done, she rammed her thumb into SUBMIT.

* * *

In the vast, luxurious office, in an Illium skyscraper, it was night. Liara T'Soni dozed on a small leather couch, only the many computer screens providing light at this late hour. A preset alarm condition was met on one of her systems, and a series of tones sounded. After a short time, the pattern of the tone started anew. It was a tune, the chorus from an Asari child's song. Liara's eyelids fluttered, then she sat up. _The Normandy. An outgoing message from an unidentified new source._

Shortly after Shepard had taken command of the new vessel, Liara had used her information network to capture as much data from the ship as possible. The quantum entanglement communication device that the ship possessed was, of course, uncrackable, but all normal communications had become available to her eventually. Most were reports to Cerberus, technical data from EDI to Cerberus, and messages to friends and family. Having found no harmful communications, other then the frankly creepy personal insights from a Kelly Chambers, she had dialed back her overwatch on these messages and had assigned a VI to the job.

Liara reviewed these logs periodically; now only connections to new accounts specifically alerted her. New communications could always be a crewmember betraying information about Shepard, or a mission, anything. She was not comforted that Shepard was flying a Cerberus ship being run by a Cerberus crew whose loyalties would be to the Illusive Man. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sat at her terminals and took a closer look. _A submission to...a poetry sharing site? _Liara sighed. This was a false alarm almost certainly. She could have slept through it and felt much the better for it in the morning. Absently, she clicked on the datapath to take a quick peek.

**Galactic Poetry Monthly**

Jaqueline Nought

a hunger grows

filled with savage teeth

for the feast of blood

of bloodshed

I'll feed on mankind

grow fat on these souls

I've opened my eyes

seen no worth in these lives

I'll watch this world burn

I'll blast it all to bits

they gave me the power

torch it all, rage without end

I'll watch this world burn

Liara's brows knitted together in concern, for the words on the screen were angry and dark. A threat of some sort? Her eyes went to the author's name again. _Jaqueline Nought._ A pen name; no such person served on the Normandy. _Jaqueline Nought. Jac...Jack. Of course._ Miranda had filed reports about a "Jack" two weeks ago that were extremely unflattering. _A convict. Criminal. Pirate. Murderer. Out-of-control biotic. Possibly insane, _she had opined. Those had been the polite descriptions, and Miranda had formally issued her recommendation that Subject Zero be removed from the vessel and mission, as both a distraction and a danger.

_Jack...Nought?_ Naught. Nothing. _Zero._

Liara T'Soni yawned, stretched, then set about learning some more about Shepard's newest crewman, who was also her thinnest file.

* * *

Jack leaned back, staring at the datapad screen. It was out there now, with the other one from a couple of years ago. That made them real; made _her_ real. She could die now, this could ship explode, and another piece of her was out there. They would last forever, as long as the extranet existed. It didn't matter that only she knew. She had left a mark, her passing in the galaxy was recorded...the doctors would not find them, they would not destroy them, they could not hide her away. She read the words, yet again, then clutched the datapad to her chest, throwing her head back to contain the hot tears. _You did it, little girl. You did it._


	8. Empty Inside

The shuttle smoothly descended through the cloudy Horizon sky, expertly landing at a private docking pad. Just beyond it, a path led to a bunker door carved into the side of a rocky outcropping, looking for all intents like an affluent private dwelling. Awaiting at the landing pad were three Blue Suns legionnaires, standing at semi-attention as the shuttle de-powered and the primary slid open. Four men emerged, three of them carrying briefcase-sized cases and she had been briefed on. The Blue Sun team leader stepped forward, confident in her gleaming blue and white armor while exhibiting a slight limp. The breaking sun glinted in her short red hair.

"Welcome to Horizon, sir." The mercenary had been selected for VIP escort duty for not only her combat prowess, but also for being well-spoken and her professional temperament. "I've been instructed to escort you inside, where you will remain until instructed otherwise. A quantum entanglement communicator resides on sub-level four, where your primary living quarters are, also."

One of the three trailing men raised one of his brows. "This little hole has four sub-floors?"

"Actually, sir, it has eight. It's a privately-owned residential bunker meant to withstand anything up to a targeted orbital bombardment. The bottom level has emergency supplies for up to ten people and one full year."

The lead man waved his hand dismissively at the questioning man. "Don't concern yourself, Radim, I expect we won't be here long. Take us inside."

"Of course. Right this way, Mr. Lawson."

* * *

Operations Chief Ashley Williams, not for the first time in the last hour, swore loudly and resisted the urge to punch the terminal display. The steaming NCO vowed to compose a scathing document to her commanding officers about the Alliance vetting process for contractors. The two Alliance technicians who had just reported findings to her cringed, but knew they were not the true target of her frustration, thankfully. She was an intimidating woman when her temper was high.

"Fucking lowest bidder lazy incompetent _assholes_," she hissed.

The GUARDIAN turrets newly assembled to protect this colony had been farmed out to a private company for installation and testing, and they had barely done one, and possibly skipped the other. "Start from scratch. Disconnect everything. Wipe the firmware and we're starting over. In four days, if I kick a geth into the goddamn sky, I want those turrets shooting it the fuck down in flames." The recent mass abductions of human colonies had the Alliance installing defences faster than was reasonably possible for quality work to be done, leaving all parties involved scrambling to fix and make do.

After the two technicians saluted and left, a middle-aged marine with a graying moustache approached. "Hey, Chief. Got a moment?"

Ashley blew out a calming breath and wiped her forehead. "Hey gunny, what's up?"

"Uh, well...kind of a personal matter. Possibly none of my business."

She shot him a _just spit it out already_ look.

"Right, right. Did you hear...I mean the media reported...and you served with...ah shit. Commander Shepard had been spotted on Omega, they're reporting."

Ashley's eyes flashed, and she fought the urge to call the man an insensitive idiot. "Listen, gunny, a few weeks ago they said he'd been spotted on Illum. It was bullshit then and it's bullshit now. Some asshole is playing dress-up with a famous guy, and then some _other_ asshole thought it was funny and did the same thing. He was spaced in the gravity well of a fucking planet."

She really didn't want to talk about this, or think about it. "You don't survive that. You might not even make it to the ground, you'd just..." She waved her hand, not wanting to continue that thought. "Just...no, don't even give people like that attention, trying to turn something great into something sick. We have work to do. The people that live here hate our guts and want us out of their shit, so let's do the job and get the hell out."

Williams turned on her heels, causing her long brown hair to whip behind her, and strode away from the red-faced man.

* * *

Shepard sat up in bed with a jolt, blinking rapidly as his eyes darted around the darkened cabin, momentarily disoriented. _Where?_ _The Normandy, the Cerberus one. My cabin. _His face felt thick and heavy, and hurt it like hell. Recent memories were checking in, from past to the present. _Pragia. Heavy krogan fists coming down through the rain. Jack. _She had, with still-raw emotions, confronted Miranda in her office about Cerberus's operations. The two of them had come close to starting up a biotic-enhanced battle right on the spot.

Shepard, Kelly, and Jacob all had rushed into the room, and together they had contained a potential disaster that could have blown the side of the vessel open. He remembered shoving his battered face into the convict's snarling one, shouting for calm and reminding her about the bigger picture. Eventually, Jack merely promised to murder Miranda _after_ the mission, then stormed out - only pausing to yank the just-filled food tray from the hands of Crewman Hawthorne while colorfully inviting him to have sexual relations with himself.

Shepard barely recalled falling into bed after that, and letting the blackness take him. Now, he felt oddly clear-headed despite his overall soreness. _This must be what a good, dreamless sleep does for people, it's been so long I hardly recognize it. _Glancing at his alarm, he did a double-take. 09:47 _What? _He had not slept in this late since the post-Sovereign parties when the crew, suddenly celebrities, had celebrated on the damaged Citadel. Everyone cheering and fighting to buy them drinks; interviews, medals pinned to chests, promotions, vid stars wanting photos with them, and almost drowned out in the noise, services for the lost.

After ten days of it, he'd asked Anderson to send them away on any bullshit mission he could think of, just to give him and his crew space from the lunacy. Little did Anderson know it was the last mission the Normandy SR-1 would be assigned to, and celebration would turn to tragedy and mourning.

"EDI?" His voice barely escaped his bruised mouth and sleep-roughened throat, so he had to repeat it to be understood.

"Good morning, Commander Shepard."

"EDI, my alarm...didn't go off..." Shepard started to rub his aching neck, then stopped when he discovered his hands hurt even worse.

"Apologies, Commander, your alarm was deactivated at the request of Dr. Chakwas, and with the consent of Executive Officer Miranda Lawson."

Shepard paused before responding. "Ok, thank you." He'd deal with that later. Or not. Dr. Chakwas _did_ have authority to regulate his duty hours if she thought it was needed.

* * *

The elevator swished open at the crew deck level, and Shepard stepped out to walk around the hallway and enter the mess hall. Breakfast was still in late service, and several crewmen were milling around. Of the specialists, only Kasumi was seated, and she looked up from her datapad and glass of orange juice, exchanging a casual wave with him. Two crewmen in line for food attempted to step aside, but Shepard waved them off and waited his turn. "Hey Gardner, did Jack already get food this morning?"

The balding mess sergeant looked at him oddly. "You look like hell, sir, no offense...uh sir. Anyway...no...she's never actually, you know, gotten in line and requested anything. Food is missing some nights, though...so she _does_ eat. Hell, some nights it's like I was raided by a pack of teenagers. Not last night, though."

"Huh...ok, load me up with two plates...a little extra on one of them." Shepard struggled with his stiffened hands to pick up accessories for his breakfast tray, and Kasumi appeared silently beside him. "Let me help you, Commander, you look kind of awful if you don't mind me saying so." Every word was a tease and a smile. He sighed and nodded.

Jack sat up sharply under her simple sheet, dropping her datapad on the bed beside her. Steps were coming down her stairs, and she found herself hoping it was Shepard - mostly because that also meant the possibility of food. She had woken up hungry and that had already been two hours ago; she had never come so close to marching upstairs and demanding food from that old Cerberus fuck who cooked up his shitty high-school-cafeteria garbage.

Jack even felt a smile coming as Shepard emerged in the stairwell, tray in hand, only to have her grin fly away when she saw he was not alone. Kasumi had silently crept down beside him, and was carrying a breakfast tray, clearly on his behalf. She set it down on the metal crate that was Jack's makeshift table, and whispered with a devilish grin, "Isn't it nice when the guy sticks around to bring you some breakfast?"

Jack opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again as Kasumi had already turned and was halfway to the stairs. Speaking would just draw attention to the remark that Shepard clearly had not heard. She settled for silently mouthing "fuck you" at the thief's back as she vanished up the stairs.

Shepard sat with his tray balanced carefully on his knees, and cleared his throat. "Jack, hey..."

She cut him off immediately. "No way, boy scout. Eat first, talk later...dickhead's dinner that I stole last night hardly made a dent, and you slept in like a lazy asshole today. Breakfast is _late_, bitch." The words didn't have genuine malice in them - she seemed to be enjoying the chance to gripe about something. She threw back the blanket, and for an instant Shepard glimpsed the bare skin of long, thin legs highlighted with exotic art. He turned his eyes back to his suddenly, _extremely_ interesting plate of eggs and sausage.

She had slept in her black armless belly shirt, and modest black simple underwear that resembled swim shorts. Typically unconcerned with her relative state of undress, she grabbed her heaping plate and sat cross-legged on the floor. Picking up the plastic fork, Jack jabbed it enthusiastically into the food, stacking up a piece of sausage, a chunk of egg, and a large fried potato piece before shoving it gracelessly into her mouth. Chewing the mouthful with gusto, she leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes with a groan of pleasure. Shepard had to laugh quietly at her enthusiasm.

Carefully taking a bite of his own food - his mouth would barely open far enough to accept it - he found himself unable to avoid stealing glances at her exposed lower body, even as he berated himself for behaving like a lonely teenager. He'd never seen her with anything less than crude prison pants and her thick, buckled boots. The contrast to how she was dressed right now only served to make her look _extremely_ undressed, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Her feet were small and girlish, and like her hands, had short, unpainted, boyish nails. The effect was surprisingly wholesome in relation to her extreme body art and bold lips, the heavy mascara, _and_ _I really, really need to stop looking at her like I've never seen a girl before, because this will rightfully creep her out._

Coming back to clarity, he realized there had been an awkward silence. "Uh, yeah. I had a long night...spent most of my evening in medbay, then I was just headed for sleep when you decided to throw down with Miranda..." Jack rolled her eyes and grimaced but didn't pause eating. "When I was finally free of that little adventure, I went to my room and pretty much passed out. Chakwas had EDI kill my alarm because she figured I needed the rest."

The biotic crammed in another mouthful before speaking. "Yeah, well, that...you guys saved Cheerleader's life last night, for now anyway. Fuckin'..." More food went in. "...bitch...mmph...thinks because she has a big tits that people will just buy her bullshit. 'That facility went rogue', my _ass_." She paused in mid-chew and looked at him. "What do _you_ think?" Shepard finished a bite, still moving his face as little as possible while doing so, sipped his coffee, and sat back to consider that question while Jack's eyes increasingly narrowed as the seconds ticked by.

"I don't believe her...and I don't _not_ believe her."

Jack scoffed angrily, "What the fuck is that pussy answer about?"

"Listen, Jack, I was in the Alliance for almost 15 years. I was an officer. I passed the N program. I'm a Spectre. They handed me command of a very unique and valued ship that was a symbolic peacemaker between humanity and turians. They hung a goddamned Star of Terra on me. So before all this Cerberus shit happened, I was very, _very_ trusted. And I still didn't know everything the Alliance had going on. Not even close. Any big organization...a secretive one, anyway...operates on need-to-know. And most of the time I didn't."

The biotic put in another big forkful and literally chewed that over while staring at the wall, then slugged a mouthful of juice. "You ever get sick and fucking tired of being reasonable, Shepard?" She took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose. "You gonna finish that toast?" Shepard smirked and shook his head, so Jack swiped the remainder of his breakfast and went to work on it.

"Attention, Commander Shepard, please reply via command comm." Everyone still addressed him as _Commander_, even though he was officially KIA by Alliance reckoning and held no active rank. He stood and went to the nearest communicator, which was up the stairs and into engineering. Jack pushed her empty plate away and got back into bed with a contented groan, covering herself to the waist with her blanket, and lying back with her hands folded over her pleasantly full stomach. Kasumi's tease about spending so much time with the Commander bothered her, though. He did spend a lot of time around her. What was his angle here?

"Shepard here," he stated as he thumbed the wall communicator. "Commander." Miranda's voice was low, and he leaned closer to hear. "The Illusive Man just sent me a report. There have been signal buoys in the Shadow Sea which have returned unidentified object reports of unprecedented size. It may be the first advance notice of Collector activity we've ever had."

"Good, let's go there and be ready. Tell Joker to make the jump immediately."

He returned to Jack's storage room and found her back in her bed, and she didn't say anything as he returned. He decided to not press a conversation and picked up the breakfast tray as if to leave, but then she spoke. "Hey. Wait a sec. I...needed to wipe that place off the map. You went far out of your way to help with that, took a hell of a beating for it in return, and I owe you." Her face was as open and honest as he'd ever seen, and he found himself not wanting the moment to end, so after holding her gaze briefly, he simply nodded in reply.

She shivered and pulled the blanket higher up under her chin, and continued in a soft, rough voice he'd not heard before from her. "You don't know what it's like, having that garbage following you around. It marks you...in ways you don't expect." She paused, and Shepard found his voice.

"I might know a thing or two about that. Hard choices made...including what to try to let go of."

Jack closed her eyes and spoke again. "Yeah, I suppose you might. Hard to walk away from it. Thought it would be easier once the place was a crater. Maybe it will be, eventually."

"You're not the killing machine they tried to create, Jack. You let Aresh live. What Cerberus was aiming to make would never have done that."

"Yeah, well, he was trapped in the past. You showed how that could be me, reliving it every day. If I am...then maybe Cerberus wins, you know?"

Shepard sat down again. "Do you...feel different now? You closed a chapter, and I want to help anyway I can with getting your head on straight."

Jack sat up, the blanket falling to her waist again, and despite her shirt, Shepard looked down, feeling intrusive.

"Hah, don't get all therapist on me, boss, you're not the couch type. I hate that shit anyway...bullshit prison shrinks like that ginger bitch upstairs. You helped me out and that's enough. Way more than I expected when I set foot on your boat. I'll keep my shit together." She flopped back into bed and rolled over, so Shepard nodded at her back, gathered the plates, and went up the stairs.

* * *

Drops of sweat fell from the woman's nose as she angrily pumped herself up and down from the floor in rapid push-ups. _Thirty-four, thirty-five! _Wearing a small backpack containing 15 kilos in weights, this was the last set of the day, and as usual she tapped into buried rage to push through the barriers of exhaustion. _Fuck you, Shepard. Fuck you for choosing that little blue bitch over me. Fuck you for getting __along with the whole crew. Fuck you for making other men look like failures in comparison. Fuck you for being a selfless hero. Fuck you for making me love you. Fuck you for dying! _Strangled gasps of agony left her clenched teeth as her rubbery arms started to fail her, and physical agony finally overpowered emotional - Ashley collapsed, red-faced and gasping for air. The pain was good, she welcomed it. For two years, it and grief had fueled her forward. It kept her alive.

* * *

Sitting in a blaze of orange light, the smoking man contemplated the sensitive timing at hand. The human colony he had settled on as his first choice of Collector bait was now days from being fortified. He'd had to push ahead his schedule and force the issue. Seeding the communications in the area with the falsified reports of Shepard's presence was a calculated move to draw the enemy into contact. He needed intel on the Collectors, and the sooner the better. Moving his chess pieces into contact was needed immediately, and if the signals were correct, it was paying off.


	9. The Sound of Truth

The smoking man severed the conversation with Shepard, took a long, relaxed pull on his cigarette, then sipped his scotch. He tapped some ashes into his tray, then touched a holographic key on his chair. Moments later, an entirely different figure appeared in blue light before him. "Mr. Lawson, I apologize for the tight accommodations and lack of news recently, but as of now things are moving quickly. Prepare your people to move out, but stay under guard for now. You won't want to be outside."

* * *

Operations Chief Williams methodically clipped the fitted ceramic plates over the tight, velvet-like black bodysuit. The now-standard dull blue-black hardshell armor of the Alliance went on mindlessly, snapping together from muscle memory from thousands of repetitions. Unlike most, she had resisted moving on from the old white armor, in her case trimmed in very non-standard pink. She had looked ridiculous, but that was the point of losing a bet. Those squadmates had died on Eden Prime so long ago, and she had kept the suit and endured the funny looks for over a year, to honor them. _That was for you, my friends._

Some, perhaps all of them, had been turned into husks that day. She had stood next to Shepard and Kaidan - then strangers to her - shouldered her Avenger, and helped shoot them down. Ash had guilt about moving on from that, but it was out of her hands now, and a look in the mirror the first time she had worn the new armor confirmed that she looked _good_. Strong. Purposeful. She would honor them by serving well and kicking fucking ass wherever she went. So she had, all the way to pouring rounds into Saren's cybernetic monstrosity of a body, helping to finally bring him down. Jubilation. Tears. It was over. _I buried the geth for you guys. It's done._

Five weeks later, Shepard was dead. The Normandy, gone. She had been the first one to reach Joker's pod, ripping open the steaming hatch as it melted the snow that touched it. Staring right past him, even as she knew it was terrible of her, past his agonized face caused by more than his shattered bones. He was alone. After an excruciating passage of time, she looked back down to the broken man at her feet, and he could not meet her eyes in return, covering his face with his fractured hands.

After the funeral, she had fled away from the others. They were the tiny pieces of Shepard that remained, the tatters that were horrible reminders of what was missing. She buried herself back into the Alliance, volunteering for every advanced combat course available. In every other free waking moment, she trained her body, honing herself into a weapon. Shepard was gone, but she would prepare herself for what was to come. While the Council began work to _contain the situation_, she would prepare for a war few knew, or wanted to believe, was coming.

* * *

Shepard sat on the shuttle bench in his full armor, leaning forward slightly and cradling his helmet in both hands, balanced on his knees. The last several hours had been a blur of details, decisions, and preparations. Shortly after arriving in Shadow Sea, the Illusive Man had initiated the first urgent contact since the launch of the SR-2. The human colony of Horizon had "gone dark" and dropped all communications. The Cerberus head had added - almost as afterthought - Ashley Williams had recently been posted there to assist with shoring up colony defenses as part of an Alliance outreach program. The N7 commando had grown suspicious that of all human colonies on the galaxy edge, why _this_ one, at _this_ time, and shortly after the arrival of a noted Shepard friend. The Illusive Man had agreed, offering he thought it possible that the Collectors were personally aware of Shepard, and that his network of friends may be a target as well.

While the Normandy had roared to the Iera system to rendezvous with Horizon, a hasty visit to Mordin had ensued. Thankfully,after he had a recent breakthrough with evidence collected from the Collector raid of Freedom's Progress, he had devised a signal field which should render them undetectable to the insect-like creatures the Collectors used to swarm and somehow immobilize the colony occupants. Absently, he touched the pouch at his waist that contained the field suppressor.

_If this thing doesn't work, this will be a very short mission._

The Collectors were a new and largely unknown enemy. Typically thought of as myth by the great majority of the galaxy. No rules to follow, nothing to expect.

Shepard had wanted his most intelligent, most adaptable teammates for this drop. Whatever happened, they'd need to adjust on the fly, with no planning and no drills. He briefly met eyes with Miranda and Mordin, exchanging nods to indicate that they were ready for go-time. Next to Mordin sat the grim-faced Zaeed in his much-scarred armor. Hulking over Miranda was Grunt, making her look tiny and frail by comparison. The two "heavies" each had explicit orders to stick to their respective assignments like glue and provide close-in support.

In the roar of the shuttle's engines as it decelerated, Shepard exchanged a thump on the arm with Zaeed, then reached out and exchanged a meaty slap of hands with Grunt. Miranda rolled her eyes slightly. _Men. _Still, she was profoundly thankful for the ring of toughness and firepower that surrounded her right now, and the polished steel in Shepard's eyes was as confidence-inspiring as always. She was finally starting to understand why Cerberus had spent a dreadnought's worth of money on this one man. Firepower was nice, but belief was priceless. Miranda caught his gaze for a moment, and he firmly nodded to her even as she caught her own tiny reflection in his silvery eyes. His face was carved from stone until he lifted one side of his mouth in a confident smirk, and she was captured. She felt magnified, somehow. Enhanced. _We can do anything, we are the hunters, not them. _It was intoxicating.

* * *

Ash was dragging her chestpiece over her head when a distant klaxon sounded, and she froze with the armor piece half-attached. Unexpected vessel incoming? Hurriedly, she snapped the remaining pieces into place, and grabbed her helmet and M-8 Avenger before bursting out the door. The colony was in chaos. People were running in all directions, a few pointing up at the sky above and behind her. She spun around and looked into the sky, and her blood ran cold.

* * *

Eight light-years away, Liara T'Soni squinted, her face illuminated by the light of six different holographic screens. The Normandy had arrived in Shadow Sea only hours before. What worried her was that comm traffic had been broadcasting the Normandy's presence in that system before it had even arrived. Many hours before. As if it had been a planned destination, when she knew it had not been.

Someone knew they were going there, and had alerted...someone. _Or intended someone to overhear_. Dread filled her as she jammed her finger into a transmission app. She needed to reach Shepard and warn him.

* * *

"Get the colonists into the shelters!" She had grabbed, so far, four passing marines and roared into their faces to get their shit together and secure the colonists into the emergency bunkers. Ash looked at the huge, impotent GUARDIAN gun towers, and snarled in frustration. They were perhaps 24 hours away from being usable. _What are the fucking chances?_ A huge, vertical vessel, like a skyscraper, had touched down...still so high that the top of it pierced the clouds. _That's not a Reaper, what the hell?_ Around and over the useless gun tower in between them, a black cloud swirled and grew, coming closer. Ash squinted, then brought her rifle up to use the scope to peer into it. The M-8 slowly came back down, and she licked her suddenly dry lips. _Options. A plan. What..._ The cloud of fist-sized insects washed over her, and she thrashed helplessly as her rifle fired uselessly into the storm of tiny enemies. It was pointless, like trying to shoot the rain. Inside the cloud, something the size of her hand clawed its way into the opening of her helmet and wriggled over her face, sinking a stinger into her cheek. The hardened marine screamed in horror.

* * *

Peering at the orange holographic displays that surrounded him, Joker's face tensed as he took in the information sent urgently to EDI by Liara T'Soni. His brows pinched in confusion as he read the message. "What the hell? This is all some sort of a...we're bait for them? This is a trap of some sort? For us? Who?"

"It may be that Commander Shepard himself is the reason the Collector vessel has chosen this particular system."

"Jesus...Christ...what do we do?"

* * *

"Ok, let's do it! Get hot!" The shuttle door slid open and Grunt, Miranda, Mordin, and Zaeed piled out, followed by Shepard. They fanned out double-time as Jacob took flight again. Shepard toggled his comm. "Get five klicks off, Jacob. I don't know what's about to happen here."

"Roger that, five clicks. Good luck Commander."

The group jogged up a path to the edge of the outside defensive wall of the colony, then slid along it, heading to one of the two main entrances. A cloud of bat-like formations were already swirling around and over the colony. "Mordin, _how_ sure are you this field disrupter will make us invisible to those things?" Miranda asked.

"Unsure, prototype usage. By necessity field trial is initial test. Success or failure should be absolute, not degrees. Should be exciting!"

Miranda closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed a lump of fear. "Right. Thank you for the update."

* * *

Shepard dove behind a piece of farm machinery while narrowly avoiding some sort of plasma beam that cut through the air he had just passed through. The others fanned out and found cover, returning fire on the five Collectors they had just encountered. All around them were cocoons or pods of some sort, some of them filled with twitching, shadowed figures. It was like fighting in a horror movie, with aimless swarmers fluttering around them constantly. To Mordin's credit, however, they seemed to be unaware of them.

"Suppress!" Shepard yelled, and without hesitation Zaeed and Mordin popped over cover and sent a long burst in the direction of the insectoid attackers, followed closely by Miranda and Grunt, the two pairs making sure they didn't exhaust heatsinks at the same time. _Good._ Shepard's simulated drill-work with them in the shuttle bay was paying off nicely.

The commando rolled again into the next cover away from them, then advanced on the flank. Distracted by his suppressive fire teams, the first individual Collector he encountered never saw him coming, keeping to its cover of a low concrete wall meant for directing water flow in the wet season.

_Whatever they are, they show basic survival instincts, so not like husks, good, something learned._

Shepard leaned around his stone wall and caressed the trigger of his Avenger, sending out a six-round burst of disruptor ammo into the large triangular head of the nearest Collector. Its head burst into yellow goo and it slumped to the ground.

_Only light natural armor. Larger than normal head for a sentient in relation to body mass. Head-shots easier than normal. Some units totally unshielded._

One of them erected some sort of spider-webbed personal shield and fired from around it. Incoming fire hit it uselessly and didn't seem to deplete it in the slightest. Shepard moved to the next cover object again, and gained angle. Two bursts dropped it, and as it backpedaled away to fall lifeless, the shield stayed.

_Invulnerable personal shield, static, does not move with the target. Pins them to a location as they seek to retain cover there rather than move._

Things were going surprisingly well.

"_**Assuming direct control."**_

_Where had that voice come from? It sounded from everywhere, all directions. Inside his mind?_ A quick glance at his team revealed no disruption or confusion there. They were laying fire on the remaining three Collectors and scoring hits as the enemy forces moved to avoid Shepard's flanking maneuver. _Only I could hear that?_ More Collectors had joined from the adjoining square - they now numbered eight or more. One of them...glowed and burst into flames, floated into the air, and doubled in size. It dropped down again with a thud, looking like it was made of living lava.

"_**This is what you face."**_

Was that voice coming from that thing? The voice was thunderously deep and echoed with power and arrogance. Like Sovereign, but not Sovereign's voice. A tremendous glowing blue blast came from it and exploded against his cover, shattering the concrete wall into pieces. The explosive force collapsed his shields and knocked him away to impact and roll on the ground. Scrambling to his feet unsteadily, he was forced to retreat and jump-slide over another wall, falling down an incline into a small stream that bisected the colony.

"_**The forces of the universe bend to me. Face your annihilation."**_

_Shut up._ The water splashed around his feet as he charged up the stream, below the view of the battleground, circling back to his unit. They were yelling incoherently into the radio as incoming fire from the transformed Collector decimated their cover, and other unaltered ones closed in. _Move. MOVE. _Above him, concrete dust flew into the air as he arrived below his people, and he leapt up, grabbed a ledge, and pulled himself over with ease that defied his heavy armor.

Not seven meters away, a Collector fired point-blank into Mordin, shimmering his shields with damage. At his feet, Zaeed writhed and cursed, clutching a bloodied leg with one hand while fumbling at his back for his Predator handgun. Grunt was fighting off four Collectors by himself, caught while reloading and down to using his fists, head, and the butt of his Claymore shotgun. One Collector advanced beyond the reach of the raging krogan to raise his weapon at Miranda, and without hesitation the Cerberus officer raised her omni-tool and sent an Overload into it. Smoothly, she reversed hands and her Shuriken ripped it apart with a long burst at muzzle-flash range. _Nice work, Miri._

Still, too many of them to fight effectively, they were being overrun and that damned abomination was still sending in cannon-like fire. They could not fight back with so many smaller units all over them. Four husks had appeared to join the fight from nowhere and closed in.

"_**I sense your weakness. Swarm their position. Your minions will fail, Shepard."**_

_Maybe you can hear my thoughts also. _Four billion credits had been poured into this body. Miranda had hinted that some things had been done that only a nearly unlimited budget would allow. Prototypes had been created, discarded, improved. New technologies researched, dismissed, stolen, invented, merged. He knew he was filled with implants; some of them he could feel under his skin. Others, there were fresh scars when he had awoken on the Lazarus base.

One in particular Miranda had mentioned in passing, that he could consciously activate without input from his omni-tool, as it touched directly into his - now - partially synthetic nervous system. He could feel it inside his mind, or his body - the sensation blurred the lines of which it was - waiting like a switch under your finger that you chose not to move, but at any time, you knew that you _could_. The Cerberus operative had loosely described the effects - or more precisely, the _intended_ effects. It had never been tested on any living being before, human or otherwise. She had cautioned him against doing so out of curiosity, and sometime in the future - under controlled conditions - they may get to do so. That time had not yet come, as the missions and challenges had been continuous since the time he had awoken.

Shepard dropped the Avenger assault rifle, the Carnifex Hand Cannon filling his fist before the assault rifle even hit the ground. By the time the handgun was raised and leveled, the ammo selector was already resting on _incendiary_. Five powerful strides charged him into the midst of five Collectors and three husks that were just flowing over and around Mordin's cover, where the salarian was vainly trying to protect Zaeed. Even as he hit one husk with a cryoblast that flash-froze it in place, the others were reaching for him. Hopeless.

_Maybe you can hear my thoughts also. If so, hear this: I will kill all of you._

Shepard flicked the internal switch deep inside his sense of self.

The universe stopped.


	10. Time Stand Still

A few meters behind the pilot's chair of the Normandy SR-2, Jack ground her teeth and angrily paced up and down the command hallway. The agitated ex-convict was barely able to restrain herself from launching a vicious boot at one of the Cerberus crewmembers who sat at her feet, lining each side of the walkway and manning the technical stations.

_Fuckin' pissants._

Garrus and the others were forming a semicircle around Joker, too consumed with the current mission down on the surface to bother her, which left her with space to stew in her frustrations.

_First mission since I got here that actually matters, and that asshole leaves me on the ship. The fucker doesn't trust me! Why am I here? He wants something. Everybody wants something. Saw the way he looked at me on the shuttle - thought I didn't see you, but I did. Maybe he's looking for a lay and thinks you're the easy score? Bitch with the tats won't say no, right?_

_Fuck!_

_That doesn't make any sense! Half the bitches on this boat are dying to bend over for him. Fuck, even that cold fish Cerberus princess was checkin' him out on the shuttle down to Zorya, and the shrink ginger chipper bitch looks at him like she's trying to rip his clothes off with her eyeballs. What the fuck then?_

* * *

Standing over Zaeed protectively, Mordin fired, reloaded, and fired again. _Numbers too numerous. Collectors joined by husks. Sending fodder to absorb shots and more importantly, time, to shield the advance. Appearance by husks curious. No dragon's teeth in sight as of yet. Husks not exclusively Geth constructs? Most fascinating. Worthy of additional thought and study. Terrible shame survival looking increasingly unlikely. Facing last moments now. Should think of something witty._

* * *

Less than 100 meters away, an armored Alliance Marine lay perfectly still and rigid in the grass, just like she had for nearly thirty minutes.

A single, deeper breath. A quiet moan on the exhalation.

Her eyes glistened with new moisture.

And blinked.

* * *

Joker defensively hunched down deeper into his cockpit chair, making himself smaller as he sent messages back and forth to Liara T'Soni from one of the multipurpose holoscreens that he had pulled up. Having Jack, pace, growl, and mutter only a couple of meters behind him was seriously damaging his sunny disposition. Garrus was standing next to him, one hand resting on the back of his seat like Shepard often did. Relatively unnoticed, Thane and Kasumi silently flanked the turian sniper.

"We gotta go down there!" Jack blurted out, as her route brought her close to the cockpit, before she spun around and stalked away again. On her next lap, she stopped and gestured at them angrily with both hands as she talked. "You know what's goin' on down there? Our guys are maybe shooting shit up right next to that big fuckin' battleship-thing. Bug dudes could be _pouring_ outta it, and our guys could be outnumbered a hundred to one!"

Garrus turned his head just enough to cast her a sideways glance. "Didn't know you cared much, Ja-"

"That is," she continued, speaking over him, "A _shitload_ of bad guys I'm not completely fucking up right now!"

"Ah," Garrus amended, turning back to the front.

"Well, the Collectors have never encountered any serious resistance before," continued the bandaged turian evenly. "From what we _know_, every previous colony left no obvious signs of a defensive effort. I think the Collectors are thin on actual offensive forces simply because they don't need them - and rely on those swarming creatures."

"It would be reasonable, for the sake of operational efficiency, to assume the majority of the vessel is reserved for the storage and transport of living captives," added Thane quietly.

Kasumi crossed her arms and shuddered. "Ugh."

Joker waved his hand. "Everyone keep their pants on. Liara says she intercepted reports that the defense towers are 100% hardware-ready. They just need software configuration and targeting...calibration." He refused to look at Garrus. "Anyway, EDI, if we can get you connected to the gun towers..."

"Not possible at this time, Lt. Moreau. The alleged Collector vessel would seem to be blocking all spectrums of electronic traffic at the moment. I am unable to communicate with any systems in the colony."

Garrus cocked his head slightly. "What if...the _Normandy_ held in static orbit, and someone groundside aligned a boosted, narrow signal directly up at your location? There are certainly communication dishes down there that are functional."

"Your plan has merit. Tight-beam signal to a precise geosynchronous orbit coordinate could potentially penetrate the interference. However, we are currently unable to communicate with the ground crew in order to convey the details to execute such a link to allow access to the GUARDIAN towers."

Garrus crossed his arms. "Well then - sounds like we need to go for a little drive."

* * *

Approximately two percent of John Shepard's blood supply was synthetic. Cerberus had centered an exorbitant four billion credit project entirely on restoring his body and mind from the carbonized shell of his armor, and the shattered bone fragments contained within. The Lazerus Project had one goal: restore Commander Shepard to what he was - every hair, every cell, every memory. The technology in place was waiting and ready for him.

And it had completely failed.

The project leaders had been, as they say, _retired_. Miranda Lawson - involved with obtaining Shepard in the first place - was pulled in to assume ownership of the project's literal remains, and tasked with a new mission. Bring back Shepard _by any means necessary_; keep what you can, construct the rest.

During the next two years spent to restore his body and mind, every feature of the human body was broken down, examined, and fused with the technology of all races available to the expansive corporation. Dormant chemicals flowed through him, that, when catalyzed, eased the transition of oxygen in and out of cells; magnified the effects of adrenaline on the body; and near super-conducted the synapses of the brain.

Implants pitted his body that enhanced signal relays in his nervous system, bathed in chemicals that accelerated data transmissions from mind to body. Synthetic materials webbed and woven into bones to enhance shatter resistance.

Shepard himself was aware of little of this - bits and pieces had been disclosed to him by Miranda, but it was not a topic he pressed. Nor did she see the value in his complete knowledge on the subject. He knew enough. Enough to act, to fight, and to win.

As quick as thought, this two percent activated. A large implant, nestled behind his heart, came to life and flooded his body with reserves of pure glycerines, adrenaline, analeptic stimulants, and the most perfect of his already-enhanced red blood cells. A module inside the base of his skull flooded the incoming blood supply to his brain with neurotransmitter chemicals. Shepard's vision - images sent to his visual cortex as pre-processed data from his entirely artificial eyes - darkened, narrowed, and focused to nearly painful detail, the edges rendered blurry and dark.

The M-6 Carnifex has only 11 primary components, and of these, only six of them move during a firing cycle. Shepard centered the sights on the face of a Collector three meters away from him, the entire scene evolving in magical-looking slow motion filtered through a haze of orange. The Collector he was sighted on already had an alien-looking rifle pointed into the chest of Mordin, while the salarian slowly raised his omni-tool, perhaps to reinforce his personal shield. It all happened in maddening calmness, like tracing a single, gentle fingertip across the surface of a still pond. The passage of time lost meaning.

A long, quiet _thoooommm_ went through his hearing, then silence, then slowly building into another _thoooommm_...his heartbeat. Shepard's index finger pulled back on the weapon's trigger, the tendons in his index finger scraping along the grooves in the bones, feeling every millimeter of travel before sensing a strong push begin in the center of his palm. As the push intensified, a glow quickly flashed from the barrel opening, and the slide on top of the gun grated back with a textural feeling of metal-on-metal he had never sensed before.

All six of those moving pieces he could feel now, working in conjunction to shave off a tiny pebble of metal, encapsulate it in a mass distortion and disruption field, and accelerate it to supersonic levels. Slow, distorted thunder assaulted his ears as the sound of the gun reached him.

Shepard could witness the impact as the field-encased shard of mass struck the carapace of the Collector, shattering it and sending gouts of yellow fluids spraying in all directions, as if a rock had been hurled into a water puddle with ferocious power. Hundreds of sickly looking droplets patterned out and lazily hung in the air, hypnotically, and despite himself Shepard found himself taking a moment to watch in morbid fascination.

There was just so much time to waste. It was endless. Without value.

His hand slowly swept over, the motions smooth and liquid, and he fired again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

All around him, heads were exploding, bursting open like blossoms. He was surrounded by gore and chunks of flesh that danced slowly in the air. As the sixth round exited the hand cannon, he thumbed the eject button and the red-hot heatsink began to fall from it. He felt the scrap of metal-on-metal as gravity pulled it down and out of the weapon, having time to savor the sensation.

It had barely cleared the bottom of the gun before his other hand was ramming a new one in. The commando sidestepped another glowing energy shot from the huge, fiery Collector as he did so. The blazing heat from the projectile as it passed lazily by his face was nearly enjoyable - much like warming one's hands over a fire.

Avoiding it was as simple as dodging a pillow thrown by a small child.

He fired over and over.

All the time in the world.

Perfect shots.

It was the easiest thing he had ever done in his life.

* * *

Shepard fell to his knees in the grass, even as nearly a dozen bodies hit the ground all around him. His pistol hung straight down, between his legs, feeling like it was trying to drag him into the core of the planet. His helmet weighed as much as a dreadnought, and, helplessly, he fell forward. The face of his helmet impacted the ground, his gun trapped under his body as the seeming weight of a world pressed down upon him.

_So heavy, so weak...crushed. Can't...draw breath. Hot...I'm burning up...can't breathe...there's no air..._

"_**These attacks are pointless. You are vermin."**_

* * *

"COVER ME! SPREAD OUT AND SUPPRESS!"

Miranda screamed over the thunderous explosion as Harbinger's blue plasma shot detonated into the building behind them. The Cerberus operative crouched and set herself, then exploded into three quick strides and slid across the ground and directly into Shepard, banging her knees into his armor.

Jumping to her feet, she crouched and seized him under his arms. Dragging him over the grass, she started to pull him away from the lone remaining Collector.

Everyone had been stunned by the sudden collapse of the wall of enemies which had surrounded them. In a symphony of head-bursting eruptions, they simultaneously hit the ground like puppets with snipped strings. For a moment, droplets of alien blood pattered down upon them like thick, sticky yellow rain.

Mordin, for once in his life, was completely struck speechless. The infamous human had just..._compressed time? Highly unlikely. Time manipulation outside of FTL space-time compression even of such short duration considered an impossibility of physics by all races for centuries._ Certainly, Shepard had suddenly moved and executed actions at a highly accelerated pace, far beyond the reaction time of any organic being he had ever known of.

_Overloaded cybernetics boost, akin to a brief overclock? Chemical boost to organic systems? Combined effort? Immediate collapse following supports notion of natural threshold transcendence. Must speak with him or Miranda Lawson about this, fascinating!_

The bodies fell, and suddenly the battlefield was dominated by one enormous glowing Collector and...nothing else. Relief was short-lived as it fired into the concrete cover again and blew up a huge chunk of it into their faces. Grunt absorbed the majority of the blast and was thrown backwards into a wall. He left a huge, broken imprint in it before falling to the ground, and half-rose, shaking his head to clear it.

Miranda's voice cut through the smoke-filled air. "DON'T BUNCH UP! DISPERSE AND RETURN FIRE! MORDIN! _**MORDIN! **_TECH ATTACKS!"

The salarian was an STG veteran of many battles, so she was surprised to see him momentarily distracted. He hesitated only a moment before nodding grimly. The scientist loped ten meters to the left side of the battlefield and grabbed new cover, before using his omni-tool to envelop the Collector in supercooled subatomic particles that crystallized briefly at near absolute-zero temperatures, slowing the enemy and buying them a moment.

Miranda dragged Shepard around the corner of the housing shelter and away from the line of fire, having to trust the group to withstand the battle for a few moments without her. She heard Zaeed's grenade launcher fire and a resulting explosion, and figured they could hold the line, if only briefly.

* * *

**"**_**You prolong the inevitable."**_

"Shepard! Shepard!" Miranda fought down the panic rising in her throat and knelt over his prone form, bending forward while holding his helmet in both her hands, her face almost touching the visor as she peered closely at him in desperate concern. His eyes were rolling around glassily in their sockets, his face was dotted in sweat, and he was wheezing for oxygen. "Hold on, Shepard...it's the...like falling off a cliff after a rush, you'll be ok, can you hear me? Try to relax...we never had a chance to test this."

His eyes squeezed shut in pain, but he offered a quick nod before rolling onto his side and curling up, still gasping for air.

"It's ok, you'll be ok...just breathe...just a minute or two and you'll be fine. I need to go help the others, alright? Just take a minute and get up when you can."

Miranda stood and ran around, back to the sound of explosions and gunfire. She knew the sudden shock of his first "rush" could bring on a heart attack or a cerebral hemorrhage.

_Please don't make me a liar. Please be ok._

* * *

**"**_**You only damage the vessel, you cannot hurt me."**_

_Shut up._

Shepard placed one armored hand on the ground, and propped himself up to one elbow. Slowly, he dragged his knees under himself, gasping at the effort. Breathing was now simply _difficult_, rather than the sensation of suffocation, but a deep exhaustion still dug into his bones. Pushing off the ground with both hands, he rocked his body-weight back until he was kneeling, unsteadily.

Heaving a deep breath, Shepard coughed on the smoky air.

**"**_**This form is irrelevant. This changes nothing, Shepard."**_

The _Normandy's_ captair slowly rose to his feet, his muscles protesting with ache at every movement.

* * *

Shepard stooped and picked up, first, his Carnifex handgun, followed by the Vindicator assault rifle, and stored them at his back. He was proud of his team. They had killed the flaming, possessed Collector without his having fired a single shot at it.

Mordin was applying medi-gel to Zaeed's leg as the old merc cursed vigorously; Grunt was pacing back and forth excitedly next to the smoking crater the Collector had left when it had explosively died; and Miranda was standing next to Shepard, holding his upper arm to steady him.

Except for his Cerberus XO, they were all looking at him oddly, clearly with questions they were saving for later. He was feeling a lot better now, and he nodded reassurance at Miranda before standing taller.

"Guys, team...you did great there, you dug in and you overcame a tough spot, and took down a serious enemy. Everyone, we need to keep moving. This colony is still in mid-abduction, from what we can tell. Pressing forward can save lives. Minutes count. How you doing, Zaeed?"

The mercenary was just being pulled to his feet by Mordin.

"I can walk an' I can shoot, Shepard. Just a scratch, not like that time on..."

Shepard held up one hand. "Not _now_, Zaeed. We need to move."

Moments after the group moved on, into the next section of the colony, a second shuttle craft descended, unseen, and landed just outside the main entrance.

* * *

Operations Chief Williams rose stiffly to her feet, feeling like she had just been thawed out from spending fifty years in cryo...or, at least, how she _imagined_ that would feel. The lump on her face throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and she didn't even want to think about what was going on with _that_.

_Seen too many horror movies, get your shit together, Marine._

She picked up her Avenger rifle and flicked the ammo selector to _incendiary_.

_I'm going to find something to shoot, and that motherfucker is gonna _burn_._


	11. Life to Lifeless

Zaeed was struggling. Limping and cursing, he dragged his uncooperative leg along with him, an unwilling passenger to the rest of his body.

The Blue Suns founder was as tough a man as could be imagined, but his limited mobility demanded a strategy adjustment. Now the team moved with him as a central focal point, advancing only as far and as fast as he could manage; spreading around him and seeking leftover cover after he had picked his spots. Grunt had switched over to shadowing him closely, as Zaeed didn't have the quickness to fall back from his spot if overrun and needed strong close support.

Miranda and Mordin went to either side and used biotic and tech attacks to support whatever the two soldiers engaged, creating a strong center to punch into enemy groups. Shepard roamed free, attacking from angles to flank enemy cover, or to briefly pin opposition to allow for a short, brutal charge from Grunt.

It was becoming increasingly clear they were interrupting the colony abduction in mid-operation. They found themselves stepping over humans that were unharmed and seemed alive, but paralyzed. Others were saved from a horrible fate as Collectors were shot while dragging captives away, in the direction of the huge mothership that increasingly towered over them as they approached, now only a few hundred meters away. A burst from the Vindicator dropped a straggling Collector that was dragging a motionless human.

From ahead, Shepard was shouting. "Keep moving! We're catching up!"

* * *

Operations Chief Ashley Williams ignored the stiffness in her body, washing it away with a storm of caged violence that flowed through her. The harder she ran, the better she felt. Her strides lengthened as she charged around colony shelters, and hurdled over fences and through yards, her rifle pumping in front of her in both hands.

_God, give me something to kill. _Adrenaline, guilt, fear, and rage all mixed inside of her too potently to consider the uncomfortable nature of that request, and to whom it was addressed.

At full sprint, around a corner that turned into a corridor between two homes, she nearly ran directly into a Collector. The insectoid soldier was dragging a limp person over the grass in the direction of the huge ship in the distance. Not breaking momentum, she snarled and smashed her Avenger's rifle butt into its triangular head viciously, pouring all her rage into the blow with a primal scream. With a sickening _crunch_ the carapace collapsed, the head snapped back and it fell to the ground, twitching and leaking yellow goo from the cracks.

Ash reversed her rifle with perfect form, and the Avenger roared, spitting incendiary rounds into a target close enough to kick. The Collector burst into flames while splashes of its ignited vital fluids flew over her and against the wall of the shelter.

_If you have a hell, you burn there, you son of a bitch._

* * *

"Shepard!"

The commando froze. _That_ voice? He turned and saw Jack running towards him, and beyond her jogged Kasumi and Thane. Distantly past them, Garrus was following at more of a brisk walk. Shepard held up a hand just as Jack huffed to a stop just in front of him. "No time. Short version."

The biotic blew out a deep breath to gather herself, then spoke in a rush. "Uh, we gotta hook up a dish to talk to EDI, and then she can maybe unfuck the big gun towers and shoot _that_ thing." Pointing first to a large comm dish on the roof of a two-story building close to them, she then jerked her head towards the looming Collector ship to needlessly indicate the target.

"Ok, good, you guys make it happen. My group needs to keep moving. Who's doing the dish?"

"I am!", Kasumi declared cheerfully as she skidded to a stop with Thane, standing to either side of Jack.

"Ok, Thane, keep her safe while she's doing it." Shepard turned back to his own group. "Zaeed! Stay here with them, they won't be moving as much." The merc, grim-faced with pain, nodded tightly in agreement and slammed a fresh heatsink into his Mattock. "Garrus stays with you guys, too."

Shepard considered the makeup of the two teams for an entire second, balancing powers and abilities. "Jack, you're with me."

"Fuck yeah," Jack muttered to herself, taking her Scimitar shotgun from her back and extending it.

Garrus arrived just as Shepard's group cleared out, breathing heavily. _Too much sitting on my ass in medbay lately._

"What did...I miss?"

Kasumi slid a small, one-armed backpack from her shoulder and started to open it. "You guys are covering my shapely ass while I work the uplink. I'll be on the roof, don't think it matters much which one."

"Ok, guys...that building there, with the two dishes...on top. Looks...more solid then most. Thane...you and me...rifles on roof. Zaeed, ground floor, cover the doors. Kasumi, do your stuff."

* * *

Shepard's team had saved over a dozen people so far. Or, he _hoped_ they were saved. The colonists were completely unresponsive, and he had to trust that the paralysis was temporary. The commando could see all the way to the base of the huge ship now, approximately 100 meters away.

Shepard pulled up short, and held up a hand to stop the others trailing him. He could see dozens of Collectors dragging more victims to the ship, and he was about to yell for a double-time advance when movement, high and barely visible against the backdrop of the towering vessel, caught his eye.

Nearly as big as a shuttle. A vehicle? A small dropship, like the geth used.

He squinted and his polished-steel cybernetic eyes, after a hesitation, zoomed and refocused to blur out the background and isolate details of the target. _Still not used to that sensation._

Four white eyes, set in a crab-like head that floated above its own body in a field of blue energy. _Biotics? _In the void of its torso where the neck and chest should be, was...a pile of husk skulls, all aglow with life and energy. It had vicious-looking mechanical pincers for arms, and it flew in slowly, as if no haste was required for it's already assured victory.

_No, not a vehicle. Something new._

_A living thing._

"Incoming! Grab cover!"

* * *

The battle unfolded like a slow-motion horror movie. One of those events in his life he would relive in his dreams. Another one for the growing list of nightmares, for his mind to pick from.

One of those he'd wished to banish to the darkness of the human mind, where forgotten things went.

Miranda, Mordin, Grunt, Jack, himself. They were, each in their own way, respectively amongst the most capable of their species he had ever known.

Skilled, tough, smart, motivated.

All so very different from the other, in some ways distrustful or even hostile to each other, but now - under fire, under pressure - together as one, they operated smoothly, without hesitation, without doubt. In free time, they gathered in the cargo hold and used crates to map out defenses or positions to assault.

They drilled, practiced, pointed, explained, questioned, and practiced some more. _Make your mistakes here, not out there._ He encouraged them to make suggestions and question his tactics; they didn't have his vast experience with squad-based combat, but he didn't have their diversity of skills and talents.

Layering up their abilities, learning who could do what, in what order, to maximize firepower. Force multiplying, he'd explained to them. Make five fight like ten, make ten fight like an army. He was proud of them. His team. His guys. Once the bullets started to fly, it was like his love them for them grew. His responsibility. His family. He knew they could do anything he asked of them.

Now, they were helpless against _it_. This _thing_.

A beam of white-hot plasma seared through the air beside him, and he could smell ozone as molecules of the atmosphere were smashed into hot subatomic matter. His cover disintegrated and exploded, and a trench was carved into the ground where he'd just been standing.

The beam touched his shields for an instant, and they went down without resistance. From the exploding soil at his feet, a rock shot into his open facemask and struck the corner of his mouth, snapping his head back and filling his senses with the sensation of sudden pain; the taste of blood.

The _thing_ had ignored the rest of the team, focusing on him alone. Like it knew who he was, like that other one that had spoken.

This one said nothing, but he knew. He knew that _it_ knew.

From the corner of his eye, he saw tracers streaming from all around, his team pouring firepower into it desperately, seeking to distract it, to save him from its singular focus.

Arcs of electricity from an Overload coated its shields, shimmering them with temporary weaknes,s but still they stood. _Miranda._

A flaming inferno enveloped it - he could feel the baking heat briefly that shimmered the air - then it faded with little effect. _Mordin._

Blue ripples of biotic power flowed over it like water, Pulling. A tug that slowed its chase of him; pulling its beam briefly aside; saving his life. _Jack._

That final beam cut the air; carved the ground; nearly tore him in half. It was learning his movements - he could sense it was getting closer with each attempt. His shields dropped again from the near miss, and one arm numbed as the edge of the beam barely touched him, vaporizing a notch with glowing edges into the ceramic plate. Shepard stumbled and fell, rolling awkwardly with muscle memory alone, regaining his feet and moving in a direction; any direction.

_Just move. Don't be a target. Don't stop._

A mistake was inevitable. He stumbled right into the shadow of the thing, and he knew it was over. Lazarus had been decimated - there was no coming back this time.

As if more chaos and noise was needed, eye-searing brilliance lit up the sky above and beyond the monstrosity. Light strobed all around them as the massive gun towers hummed to life, blinding observers with capital-ship grade laser cannons as it carved holes into the Collector ship, which rocked with explosions.

At that moment, the Praetorian staggered. Charging with an unheard roar, seven hundred pounds of enraged krogan vaulted from a storage container to land on the back of the thing. Howling a newly-learned Clan Urdnot battle song, Grunt shoved his Claymore into the open skeleton of its body, emptying the inhumanly massive shotgun into the husk heads contained inside, blasting the pile of living skulls again and again.

The entire thing shook, shuddered, then bucked in an attempt to throw him off, even as shattered bits burst from inside of it to rain down on Shepard. The N7 commando threw himself backwards even as he fired a concussion round up and into the monster, the explosive barely clearing the barrel before impacting on its shell. The blast violently knocked him across the courtyard to senselessly tumble into a stack of barrels, which collapsed and fell upon him in a heap.

_I hope that hurt you too, you bug son of a bitch._

Shepard never saw the brilliant blue glow that exploded from it - he only heard the sound that assaulted his ears and numbed his senses. Layered noises of corruption, of baneful hatred. A choir of malice; endless darkness; of the void of all life.

* * *

Garrus, Kasumi, Thane, and Zaeed arrived just as Miranda rolled a heavy barrel from Shepard's ankle, while he pushed another from his chest. She braced her feet and offered a hand, pulling the heavy soldier to his feet. He nodded his thanks to her and, wordlessly, the two turned as one to the others.

Faces to the sky, the entire team stood in a semi-circle. A pillar of white smoke showed the trail the Collector ship had taken as it vanished into the clouds with a fading roar. The GARDIAN towers had gone silent. All was quiet.

Except the sizzling. That noise would live in his mind forever.

One by one, they returned their eyes from the blue above them, looking at the horrors that lay below.

In a smoking, burnt circle large enough to sit a house in, was a huge mound of seared armor and blackened flesh. Still morbidly smoking, hissing, and popping, the remains of two gigantic combatants lay, now carbonized and locked together in death.

Jack backed away from the others before turning her back and covering her face with her hands, falling inwards upon herself in a ball of silent loss.

Mordin blinked several times rapidly, then raised his omni-tool and started to scan the remains, as if needing to find something useful to do. Anything. His mouth was tight and grim, the scar on his cheek bright with the tightness of his face.

Miranda's face was carved from ivory, her icy eyes unblinking as she looked at the bodies, then to Shepard, then back again.

Kasumi silently reached up to tug her hood down lower, retreating into her personal darkness. Her features vanished into shadow as she crossed her arms over herself while staring at the ground, her normally jovial lips set in a thin line.

Garrus removed his targeting sensor, looking like he needed to do something with his hands. He rubbed his face with the other hand, then replaced it back over his left eye. Placing his hands on his hips, he looked up at the dissipating smoke trail of the ship that got away.

Thane silently lowered himself to one knee, then the other. His hands came up, steepled, and he murmured words that only he could hear.

Zaeed's face was a mess of lines, and tension. His good eye nearly squinted shut as he looked, taking in the whole scene. He didn't turn away. Like he wanted to remember every detail, commit it to memory like he had with so many other things.

"Bloody goddamn hell," the old merc muttered.

Grunt's berserker rage that saved them all would be his last. The one perfect krogan. A living tank of aggression and power, spent and emptied. Dr. Okeer's legacy was now truly ended.

* * *

All around them, now, were the beginnings of the sounds of activity. Screams of horror, weeping for those who had been taken, and the cries of those left behind.

Shepard felt numb to it. He had lost one of his soldiers again. The weight of failure crept in, piled on, and settled. A thousand actions ran through his mind, decisions made that could have been different. He pulled his helmet off, suddenly feeling the need to be free of the heavy thing.

Their shuttle descended behind them, landing in a cloud of dust that washed over them. Jacob exited, then paused at the scene before him. Walking up to stand between Thane and Zaeed, he took in the remains of the Praetorian and Grunt with wide eyes and a slackened face.

Garrus rested his hand on Shepard's shoulder, and said something supportive to the effect of, it had been a hell of a tough fight, and they had done well to only lose one person. And that Grunt, if he'd had a chance to script his own end, would have chosen something just like this. Shepard nodded absently, only hearing some of the words.

He had taken Grunt under his wing, like an unruly teenager trying to make right. Looking for direction, a purpose, a cause. He tried to teach him so much in such a short amount of time. Not enough time.

A man in the non-military dress of a colonist had dared to approach the group and shouted at them, hysterical, near tears. "They got away! You let them get away! Half of the colony was in there! Egan and Sam...and Lilith!"

"We saved _some_ of your asses, would you rather it was _all_ of you in that thing?" snarled Jack in return, jumping forward with balled fists and a jutting chin.

Shepard turned to her hurriedly, shaking himself from his trance, raising his hands. "No! It's ok, Jack...it's been...a traumatic experience for them, too."

"Dammit Shepard, they should be thanking you! They should be kissing our fucking asses for this, look what we gave!" She spun away again, as if not trusting herself to restraint and needing to get away while she could.

The man's expression changed. "Shepard...the big Alliance hero Shepard?" The man kept talking, but Shepard didn't hear him, as one of the Alliance marines was walking past him, slowly approaching.

A woman's armor, standard Alliance dark blue. She was tall, her shoulders broad with strength. The way she walked. He felt a tingle of recognition.

She slowed perhaps ten steps from him, and removed her helmet with unsteady hands. Long brown hair spilled from it. One of her cheeks was swollen and red from an injury, but her features were as handsome as always. Tanned skin, full but pale lips, beautiful eyes that were wide in disbelief. Ashley Williams.

* * *

Ashley was in a dream, or a nightmare, or...something not real. She had to see him with her bare eyes, even the clear visor was too much of a barrier.

The helmet came off...and he was still standing there.

Shepard.

Her throat went as dry as dust, and she fought tears away from her eyes even as denials raged up in her. "John? Are you...how is this possible?"

Looking into his living face for the first time in years, Ash was struck by a flash of memory. _Blowing snow all around and over them. Shepard flat on his back in the frozen crust. The white turning to red below him. His black armor punctured by a single neat hole in his abdomen. Her, straddling his waist, their armor clanking together as she balanced herself with a gauntlet to his chest, ripping a tube of medi-gel open with her teeth._

_Above them both, the sound of Kaiden's biotics and rifle, sounding off in turns. The digital shriek of damaged and smashed geth units. Her leaning down to yell into his face. Wake up, soldier. Getting you out of here. Shuttle's on the way. His face. The empty look. A blink. Then his eyes moved to meet hers, and a tight nod of affirmation. Yes. I'm here, Ash. I'm with you._

A precious memory to her. It was the only time that _she_ had saved _him _in such an obvious fashion. Once it was clear that he would fully recover, herself and Kaiden had been smiling about it for a week. Her feet hardly touched the ground for a few days, afterwards. The fact that he had proved to be human had only strengthened her belief in him, her respect. _No mere hero or legend had done so much for her, for the Alliance, for humanity. He was a man. The N7 armor, the Star of Terra, the reputation and the stories had all obscured him from her, but now she saw him clearly._

That face wasn't quite the same, now. There had been a scar running along the bottom of his chin - it was missing now. His face also had fading bruises, especially around one of his eyes, as if he had recently been in a serious fight - and lost. One corner of his mouth was freshly blooded. His signature scar was still present, the one in his hairline above his temple. It almost looked out of place on his newly-youthful face - he looked like he had lost a few years, somehow.

His eyes. _They were someone else._

They were a different color, silver rather then light brown, and they contained exhaustion and pain, yet still burned with purity of purpose. Defiance and loyalty. Compassion and judgement.

_No, not someone else._ She'd never seen eyes like that before, or since. The color was the least of it, it was the volumes they spoke. _Shepard._

_No, it's impossible._

* * *

"Ashley." He didn't want to do this, he was exhausted beyond thinking, and almost at his feet lay one of his people, dead for only minutes. Now, he was looking at a good friend he felt like he had only seen a month ago jump into an escape pod, while knowing she must have mourned his death for two long years.

"I...this is not the best way for us to meet again. I'm sorry."

* * *

The voice was the same. Deep and normally rich with confidence and strength, but not now, when he sounded simply drained of energy. She recognized it the sound, she had heard it before. Having witnessed him him at the end of combat that he had poured every fiber of himself into. After Virmire, especially.

Her eyes flicked from the smoking pile of remains, to the crew of people and aliens around him, taking in how they looked shell-shocked and used up. Dirty, bloody, stooped in fatigue. Hands on knees, some were bent at the waist as they drew air to recover from the rush of battle. Like they'd fought like hell for him. She remembered that, too.

_It was...it had to be him._

Words were being spoken. After an instant, she realized they were her own.

"Is...that what you have to say? You show up after all this time? I...you died, Shepard. I cried for you, I attended your _funeral_. I was a wreck for..." _For when? A time?_ _I never stopped._

"...was that all...faked? You didn't tell us?"

He held up his hand to slow her down for a moment, "Ash...I _did_ die. They...I don't know or understand the _how_. They recovered my body. They spent two years on some sort of huge project...they rebuilt me somehow. I woke up from that less then a month ago. But I remember everything, right to the end...you and Liara getting people into the pods, the Normandy splitting apart..."

Behind him, unseen, Garrus winced and turned away from this scene, walking away and leaning heavily on the shuttle. The drell also turned and assisted Zaeed with entry to the shuttle as the old, scarred human cursed and winced in pain. The salarian and a raven-haired, beautiful human woman moved to stand together by the scene of death, pointing and talking quietly, as if deciding plans of action for post-mission. The woman was wearing a white bodysuit, with a distinctive black, white, and gold logo...

Shepard was still talking. "You and Liara tried to stay with me, while I got Joker..."

Ashley's eyes flicked to the shuttle. That same logo was painted on the side. She abruptly moved backwards two full steps, a gesture he didn't miss, and he fell silent in response.

"Wait a second. _Cerberus?_ Are you with _them?_" She pronounced the corporation's name with the same inflection people would usually use for a sexually transmitted disease. "They...are..._terrorists._ I...trusted you more than anyone alive. I was ready to walk into bullets for you!" As she nearly shouted at him, she felt her face contort with the effort of shoving the words past the tightness of her throat, and her eyes burned, the shape and color of him blurring.

"Ash...please, they brought me back. They offered me the resources to fight the Collectors, something the Alliance wouldn't do. I know what they said about me while I was gone, the quotes are all in the news history, they discredited everything I ever did or said. What _we_ did. Cerberus...I don't work for them, I may owe them but they don't _own_ me. It was them or do nothing at all."

His words grew louder in defiance as he spoke, energy returning to his face and voice. "It was a binary choice for me, Ash! Sidelines or saving people! So I did what I always do, I grabbed a rifle and got to work."

Ashley was silent a moment, her mind racing; a brick in her chest. Finally, she stepped closer to him, close enough to touch. Her eyes searched into his, looking for evidence of falsehoods. "You owe them? How do...you know that's just what they want you to feel, or do? If they...rebuilt you, they could have...changed whatever they wanted. Including your loyalties, your mind. Maybe you'd have never accepted them...but they changed your feelings to _make it ok_."

His eyes burned with fresh fury, and she resisted the urge to recoil away from them. "Bullshit, Ash! If they'd been able to do that, they'd have made me _like _them, and I sure as hell _do not_. I'm not liking anyone right now. I already visited the Citadel once, I spoke to the Council. They _scoffed_ when I talked about Sovereign or the Reapers. Called them a _myth_. They don't _believe_ that the Collectors are connected to them. So _that's_ why I spent thousands of human lives to buy their safety. So they could do..._this_. Deny, deny, deny." He looked away from her for a moment, his silver eyes wet with outrage and frustration. He looked ready to murder them, from across the vastness of space, with his anger alone.

"They gave me Spectre status again, a pat on the back, and basically said 'good luck, just don't involve us and stay out of the way'." He dripped with a bitterness that she'd never heard from that voice before, ever.

His eyes shot back to hers, full of fresh fire now. "And if Cerberus screws me over, then they're next. I'll burn the whole organization down. I'll save the Council again despite them being a goddamn weight on my back. I'll drag them across the finish line against their will and I will _win_."

Ash shook her head in wonderment, and felt her suspicion leave her. He still had it. His will was unbreakable, his words inspiring.

_My God, it's him. He's alive. He's right here in front of me._

Looking into his eyes, she yearned to tell him every word she had ever suppressed. He'd never loved her, not like _that_, but _she_ did, of him. Two years of suffering and regret. She could release it all right now.

_No. If it's really him, then you know nothing's changed. Including that._

As a response, she nodded slowly, and took a half-step forward and gathered him in her arms, resting her good cheek against his breastplate. After a moment, he returned the gesture, holding her close, and she cursed the body armor they both wore. Still...it was nice. It was still him. He was back.

"I have to go, Ash. I lost one of my crew today. Just a kid. I need...I want to take him back to Tuchanka. He wasn't born there, but...he should be there." His voice was rough, tightened with pain and regrets.

She responded by squeezing him tighter, and she bowed her head lower in his chest so he would not see her face.

"I'm sorry, Skipper," Ash answered after a moment of hesitation, choosing her words carefully. "You always loved your crew. Wish I could be part of it, like before."

Shaking her head with new resolve, she continued. "But I can't do that. Alliance marine. That's in my blood going way back, Shepard. Could never leave them, not for anyone, not even you of all people. But...good luck, ok? I'll be thinking of you. I hope someday, someplace...we can carry rifles together, again."

* * *

Twenty meters away, one person in the current _Normandy_ crew stood silently as the two soldiers embraced, eyes narrowed in uncertainty as to what she was witnessing.


	12. Fortress Around Your Heart

He'd performed his first live-fire, this-is-for-real mission at the age of eighteen. Twelve Alliance soldiers - some of them, like himself, green as grass - had been sent into a small tramway station on Eden Prime, in the capital city. The objective was to secure the potential extraction method of a anti-alien protest group, holed up in a nearby office complex, which had made the unfortunate error of killing a hostage. While the commandos raided the complex, their own objective had been uneventful.

Success and relief had followed for most; frustration at the inactivity for those few foolish enough to think being shot at was _fun_.

Reflecting on that now, he found he missed that feeling. At some point in his life, being tempered repeatedly by fire and increasingly intense training had burned the fear out of him. Being afraid of bullets, grenades, and fire were things that didn't really occur to him anymore. Instinct and adrenaline washed it all away.

Being afraid of failure? Yes, that he was _highly_ familiar with. And now, here he was. Oh, the mission itself was a qualified success. They had, to a degree, stopped a Collector invasion and saved part of the colony. They had inflicted losses. They had damaged the Collector vessel.

They were going home with one less soldier then they went in with.

As the commanding officer, the shuttle ride back was the hardest. It always was. Nowhere to hide from the eyes of the crew, nowhere to drop the command presence and indulge in your disappointment and self-doubt, the second-guessing.

This time, at least, the bulk of the team was not surrounding him, so the facade of confident command was not required. Shepard adopted the position of silently sitting while leaning forward with his elbows on his thigh armor, his helmet held in both hands between his knees, and staring into the reflection of his own visor.

He stared back into his own polished steel eyes, brighter than could possibly be natural, and felt the universe shrink down until it was only him and his own thoughts. In this first shuttle, piloted by Jacob, sat only himself and Jack, leaving the crew compartment feeling very large and open. In the other, piloted by Miranda, was Garrus and Zaeed. Miranda and Garrus both had insisted he return to the Normandy, as the presence of the infamous Commander Shepard was a distraction to the remaining Alliance Marines, who were on mop-up duties regarding recovered civilians and Collector corpses.

Mordin and Kasumi had volunteered to remain behind with Grunt's remains until a shuttle could return with one of the Normandy's containment stasis pods...effectively, a coffin that stabilized remains. Shepard had hoped they would never be used. That hope had been dashed shockingly early into this mission, barely three weeks underway.

Jack was leaning back against the shuttle wall, sitting on the bench opposite him, her legs stretched out straight and her boots crossed at the ankle. She was wordlessly munching on a protein bar, and between bites her arms were crossed defensively over her black leather vest and sleeveless black shirt. After four minutes of leisurely, silent eating, Jack tossed aside the protein bar wrapper. Breaking the silence, she spoke without raising her eyes from the floor.

"Sooooo...was that one of your old lays?"

* * *

The red-haired Blue Suns merc opened the door to the common room and addressed the lead scientist. "Request for you in the communications room, sir."

"Doctor Lawson, I appreciate your patience." The Illusive Man blew out a final mouthful of smoke and butted out his cigarette on his chair ashtray. "You may pack up your equipment. You are free to relocate into a facility that is partially constructed but sufficiently prepared for habitation. I had other intentions for it, once, but it will repurpose nicely."

Dr. Lawson was silent, his arms folded behind his back, staring back at the sitting man's hologram with no hint of cooperation or friendliness.

The Cerberus leader picked up his glass of scotch and peered at it, giving the amber liquid a relaxed swirl and watching the liquid roll about. "I appreciate your hesitation to embrace me as an employer again, Doctor. I did shelter your runaway daughter, but I assure you she's been put to good work that will benefit us both. She's in position to steer Shepard in subtle ways that benefit our mutual goals."

"Also, I offer you something special. You will actually have oversight of two facilities. I understand you have trusted lieutenants with you. Perhaps one in particular would lead a...secondary project that is of my choosing, but will have your input. The primary project will be a continuation of your research on Zorya. Your funding from Cerberus will be...extensive. I will also provide two hundred science and research engineers who will answer to you. They are already located at the primary and secondary facilities in a 150 / 50 split, respectively."

"Given your extensive background in genetics, I would appreciate your input at the secondary facility, and I understand one of your vice presidents is a brilliant geneticist, also. Specializing in, shall we say, bleeding edge biotic enhancement research."

The doctor nodded in reply, his face growing more interested as the conversation proceeded. "The _Normandy_ has just left Horizon, leaving in their wake - as expected - a degree of chaos. There are both certain colonists and Alliance personnel there who are under the employ of Cerberus, and they are gathering materials for your use before things become overly entangled in Alliance red tape. Collector corpses, husk corpses, etcetera. They should be arriving at the primary facility as you do."

The doctor and powerful business leader folded his arms in front of him, now, and raised one eyebrow, "And the secondary project?"

The Illusive Man slowly lit another cigarette. "Between us, yourself and Cerberus, we have in our possession the three most valuable human genetic codes that I care to imagine. One for you, two for me. I am willing to make them all yours for the purpose of this secondary project. You are concerned, I know, with establishing a legacy that involves the beginning of the next level of humanity - the perfect human."

A sip of scotch was taken and savored.

"What if you went beyond that?"

* * *

It was past the midnight hour on Ilium, and Liara slouched in her chair, an unusual posture for the normally very proper-looking asari. She rubbed her eyes, and sighed. The _Normandy_ team, assisted by her intelligence gathering, had successfully - well, partially successfully - foiled a Collector raid for the first time.

However, EDI had reported a casualty loss of a krogan soldier that Shepard had recruited, and her stomach was in a knot for him. He considered his crew to be brothers and sisters under his charge, and she knew he would be in agony right now. The events of Virmire sprang to mind, unbidden, and she rubbed her eyes. _Goddess, what an awful time that was._

Liara looked over at the corner of her office, to the expensive black leather couch she kept there, but felt restless and didn't think the escape of sleep would claim her anytime soon.

Rolling her executive chair to another terminal, she found herself seeking some mental distraction from current events. Her research into Jack had gone well, if that was the correct way to describe it, as most discoveries had been truly horrifying.

_Timestamp - 21/02/2172_

A grainy, audio-free Cerberus surveillance vid showed a reflection from a hallway window into an operating room of sorts, where a young girl, perhaps eleven or twelve - if Liara could guess human ages correctly - was naked and strapped down to a table. Her long brown hair tossed back and forth wildly, her mouth opened and teeth bared, alternatively screaming and shouting what looked to be profanities at her impassive captors. They utterly ignored her as they pushed equipment closer, their trays loaded with surgical instruments.

As the procedure began, the girl's mouth went wide in an apparent shriek, and she attempted to arch her back from the surface of the table, held in place by unyielding restrain...

_Why am I doing this to myself?_

Liara ended the playback. There were others like it, so many. Hundreds of hours, with the girl at various ages. Liara had not managed to make it through a single one to completion. Some were, like this, monstrous operations on the fully awake patient.

Many were focused on the girl being forcibly injected with what appeared to be drugs and forced to fight other children to the death in biotic gladiator-style battles. Liara was unable to view those through to the end, as well. Every time, she ended playback abruptly once it became clear - inevitably - that the other child was unable to continue the fight. What happened after that was predictable and horrifying without exception.

Other recordings were educational-looking situations where she was instructed in reading, writing, and forced to watch propaganda footage. These often ended in beatings as the girl revolted against whatever unknown rules were in place. Multiple armored guards would surround her - evidently with a way of suppressing her biotics - to mercilessly assault her. The beatings were so vicious that on multiple occasions she was clearly left with broken limbs, but once incapacitated, she was always immediately attended to and cared for. Abundant footage existed of her in an infirmary, being sedated and treated. Healed up completely only so the abuse could begin anew.

Liara found herself with tremendous admiration for the child in the videos. She suffered endlessly but was never broken, and over the last week, for this person she had never met, she had wept several times. Most recently when she had discovered another poem posted by Jack, nearly two years ago prior to her cryogenic incarceration on the Purgatory ship. Liara gestured at one of her screens and it popped up again, Liara now reading it for the second time, her eyes drifting to a certain passage.

The code-named girl in the silent recordings suffered endlessly but was never broken. At every opportunity, she resisted, fought, and disrespected her captors, regardless of the punishments she had to know were coming. As the days passed, Liara had to seriously question what amount of sanity could possibly remain in that thin, broken body.

Liara ended yet another recording prior to its completion, and dropped her head into one palm, feeling her stomach churn. Without looking, her free hand came up, and closed the holographic playback screen.

_It would be going too far to say that she enjoyed pain. It might not be going too far to say, she doesn't exactly hate it._

_I need to sleep. I need to stop watching these. It's in the past and I can't save her. This happened over a decade ago._

Scrubbing exhausted eyes with the heels of her hands, she opened another screen, revealing simple text she had saved there. The information broker had discovered the passage two weeks ago while digging into the post-escape history of Subject Zero, and had discovered, of all things, a rejected poetry submission. As before, a certain passage caught her focus.

...

I Mark Myself

Black and Jagged

To Cover the Scars

That Make Me a Monster

...

The asari set her mouth firmly now, fought down the sick feeling in her stomach, and vowed she'd find or do something for this young woman...her rightful quest for bloody revenge on certain Cerberus factions could be aided by someone in Liara's position. She just didn't know how yet. For the thousandth time, she felt guilt and dread about handing over Shepard's corpse to this tainted, filthy, corrupt company. And now, his mission with them was so essential she didn't dare work to expose these actions to him, at least not yet. Shepard worked in amazing ways when he was clear of purpose, powered from within by the purest of hearts.

This would destroy everything. Right now, Cerberus was the only army he had, and this would shatter the threadbare bonds between them forever.

The current-day Jack had interesting behaviour patterns, to say the least. Her extranet usage, which seemed to be the majority of the hours of a day, was dominated by an unusual mix of multiplayer gambling, pornography, poetry, military history, action movies, cartoons, and personal searches on Commander Shepard. Jack was a voracious reader of current events, like she was cramming in the entirety of knowledge of the galaxy around her.

It made perfect sense, of course. Her entire childhood had unfolded in a controlled bubble of Cerberus lies.

Since her escape, she had been trying to discover what was real.

The research on Shepard's historical news articles, blogs, fan sites - including an extremely detailed example with the biographies of all of the Star of Terra recipients ever recorded, dating back to when it had still been called the Medal of Honor - did it suggest a personal interest beyond mere curiosity?

_Why even think that?_ She could still remember the daggers Ashley would stare at her, and the biting comments, back when it had seemed there was some sort of romantic competition between them. _Just don't be that way, at all._ _As if the poor girl needed another speck of harm aimed at her in this lifetime._

Pointless now. _Shepard had walked right into this room only weeks ago, and you turned him away. You don't own him. Not like you could have, _she added with some self-targeted bitterness. No, it was better this way. She could serve the galactic war to come better from the background, using her full attention to control and manipulate information. Information was power. This is how she would love him, with sacrifice, and her loyalty would be shown in stepping away.

* * *

The N7 commando's eyes didn't move away from holding the stare into his visor reflection. "Not funny, Jack."

The biotic snorted, lightly. "Wasn't exactly trying to be...I mean...a guy might go for the shiny armor, gun-toting, athletic, bronzed Valkyrie type. Plus, she's Alliance military, so I bet she's nice and obedient. Hell, get her in the sack and things get all, yes sir, yes si..."

The silver eyes came up and seized her own, and Jack's words were cut off. After a moment of paralysis, she resisted the urge to squirm in her seat, as Shepard had never looked at her in such anger before. The experience was chilling.

"Stop. Talking."

The words were so quiet she didn't entirely hear them, but his lips spelled it out just fine. Thankfully, he looked back down to his helmet again, and she found herself breathing again as he resumed speaking, louder but with less heat.

"Ashley was..._is_ a good friend. Courageous fighter. She was the last survivor of her unit on Eden Prime, and still had her shit together enough to help me on my mission there. Had to step over the corpses of her friends to show us the way to the beacon. Stayed with my crew the whole time we chased Saren all over the damn galaxy. Was in lots of bad shit with her, and she fights like a lion. After that, when the first Normandy was destroyed, she stayed behind to the last minute possible...her and Liara got everyone off first, we lost some people but they saved all they could, while the ship was breaking u..."

Jack cut in quietly. "I know, Shepard. There's a vid out there, leaked to the news back then...was a big deal at the time, all that stuff about your ship...uh, I looked it up a bit ago, internal camera feeds.. Looked bad. I mean, yeah, you _died_. It was bad. Kind of a fuckin' understatement, ugh." _Shut up, moron. Stop talking._

Shepard was quiet for a full thirty seconds, and she didn't think he would reply.

"I didn't know about any of that. In my mind...that was a month ago."

The rest of the flight was without conversation, with the biotic hugging herself close and slouching down, thinking that this shuttle ride was proving to be fucking endless.

* * *

Finally reaching his cabin, Shepard flopped down on his bed with a groan. An endless parade of people had approached him since returning, either with questions or statements of sympathy about Grunt. Many crewmembers had shared stories about some funny-scary incident they had with the young krogan, a surprising number considering the short time he had been on the ship, proving him to be more curious and outgoing then Shepard had ever imagined.

Several people had some variant of a story that invariably began with one and a half tons of armored krogan bearing down on them - followed by stating some sort of metaphor for nearly soiling oneself - then Grunt cheerfully asking them questions about what missions they had done, seeking out interesting battle stories. No wonder he had formed a friendship of sorts with Zaeed and Jack...the scarred old merc and the pirate biotic were endless fountains of crazy and bloody tales.

This felt especially tragic somehow. Not only was Grunt potentially the key to a new generation of krogen genetics, but he was also, a best, a _teenager_. He could have lived for nearly a thousand years, had several hundred children, formed his own glorious clan, revitalized his entire species.

The cabin communicator chimed, and Shepard sighed deeply. "Shepard here."

"Hey. Are you still pissed at me? I mean, that's cool and all, I just didn't want to go steal some food and have you show up later with some, and it be weird..."

It was Jack. At the thought of food his stomach rumbled, he'd not eaten for - he looked at the clock - nine hours.

"No, it's ok. I'll bring some stuff down, I need something too."

* * *

Ten minutes later his boots thumped down her stairs, and he stepped into the red light of her room. Jack was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed.

"Hey."

"Hey. Rupert was on his last two portions of lasagna, garlic bread, salad...so these are both for you. I can go back up and get something else."

He set the tray down on her makeshift table, and Jack stepped away from the wall and took a step closer.

"Shepard. Listen...why do you do this? You don't bring food to anyone else, and eat with them most of the time, and...what's going on here?"

Shepard stood up straight from placing her tray and they eyed each other in the dim light. "Nothing is going on. I like talking with you, so I'm here."

Her face twisted as her lip curled up on one side. "Bullshit, we're not friends. I mean, you did me a favor with the Cerberus stuff, and I said I'd fight for you. And I have, and I will. But you're down here every night, and thanks and all for helping me avoid those assholes upstairs, but the staying and chatting and shit?"

Shepard sighed irritably. "Alright, here it is. After the Blitz..." He stopped and looked at her, and she nodded in understanding of what that was. "and...what happened there...I lost control of my own...identity. My life."

He started pacing as he continued. "I got set on a path where the Alliance used me as a symbol. Put me up on a pedestal for public relations, for recruiting. The fucking suits damn near had slappy-fights to see who could stand next to me for the news photos. Told me it was good for the Alliance, good for humanity, all that shit that made it impossible to turn down. I ended up the XO and then captain of the original Normandy - which was already a famous vessel even before it was completed - a symbol."

"Political showmanship, all of it. But yeah, a technological marvel and I loved the thing...sorry, getting off track already. The Alliance was dying to get a human into the Spectres, as it's considered an honor and gesture of trust towards an entire race and all that nonsense. I ended up being _that guy_, and the Alliance milked the publicity for all it was worth. For a while, I was just getting pestered by media and random people all the time...I lived on the ship as much as possible just to avoid it."

Then, the battle for the Citadel, destroying Sovereign. Complete madness. The whole crew became overnight celebrities for a while, and suddenly I was known everywhere. I could not go anywhere without being...swarmed with strangers. It was exciting for about three days, then I just wanted it over. Took me a full week of hounding Anderson before he agreed to send us out on a busy-mission. A month later, I was dead. I can just imagine the media shitstorm _that_ caused. Now that I'm back, I'm not looking forward to all that starting up again when people find out. But even the crew are strange with me, the hero worship is...it creeps me out, you know. There are a very small number of people alive that I know who don't care about any of that, and you're one of them."

With a sigh, he sat down opposite her. "I'll leave if you want, but I like hanging out with you, Jack, because...I'm nothing special to you. That sounds negative, but I also get a blank slate to work from. You know how long it's been since I've been just _another guy_?"

Jack had not moved from her spot in the center of the room, staring down at him. "And that's it?"

Shepard breathed deeply, and shrugged. "You're...interesting. You've not made it easy, but I have to confess, I like trying to sort you out a little."

Jack snorted, and walked back and leaned against her wall, ignoring the food. "Most people by now, they've given up on trying to be pals. What do you even want to know? The ink? That's usually the first thing people see, I've been through this shit before."

"You can't blame people for noticing and being curious. You _did_ make them your dominant feature."

"Yeah, fine." She stepped forward until she was standing close to him, and with her short black sleeveless shirt ending just at her rib cage, and the waist of her pants riding low, the expanse of her flat stomach was at his eye level and only arm's reach away. She started tracing her fingers over it, and despite himself, he found himself watching her short, clear nails as they lightly scratched at the lines and patterns around her belly button.

"Some are for prisons I've been in. Some are for kills. You know, the _good _ones. Some are for things I've lost. Those aren't your business. They're _nobody's_ business." Shepard leaned back slightly and held up his palms to show he wasn't challenging that. "And some are for, hey, why the fuck not?"

"You've invested a lot of effort into not letting people get close."

Damn him, he was doing it again. Ignoring the words and looking inside of the meaning with annoying clarity. "I've been with lots of people. If you're asking about a _boyfriend_ or that shit, then no, it's a waste of time and it never works."

"So you survived alone all these years?"

"Not always. When I was starting out, still a teenager I think, I ran with this girl...Minara, and her boyfriend. They knew their way around. Figured they could help me. Hmph, right. They helped me into their bed. And when we finally landed a big score, they took my share. I saw where it was heading, so I got them first. You let someone get close, just means they need a shorter knife. Lonely and alive works just fine."

While she spoke, she had moved closer to nearly stand above him. Shepard leaned his head back, his eyes lifting to meet her black-rimmed ones. "Sounds like you do miss people, just a little."

Jack looked back down at him, her head rimmed by the dull red lights in the ceiling, her words softer now. "Pick every word apart if you want, but it doesn't change anything."

He nodded slightly. "I know talking about yourself is difficult for you, so I appreciate you telling me what you did."

He was sitting, and she standing almost over him, so as he slowly rose he nearly rubbed up against her. He caught the faint scent of coconut mixed with a little sweat. It was instantly and uncomfortably arousing. _Sunscreen? She must have put it on before heading down to Horizon. _It was an oddly practical touch from someone who so loudly projected disregard for sensibility.

Just as he reached face level with her, she put a hand in the center of his chest, grabbed a fistful of his shirt material, and pushed him back down while bending forward and not letting go. Her face was inches from his.

"No, wait a second. My turn with the questions. You're asking all these things. People usually give up way before this. I saw you eyeing me up on the shuttle once. Because if this is about sex you should just fucking say so."

"I looked at you, yeah, bu..." Jack leaned in closer, her hand still holding him in place as her full, soft, blood-red lips closed over his. Shepard was paralyzed for a moment, and then she shoved him to the side, where he landed with his back to the bench, one leg coming up to hit the wall. She bent over him, one boot on the floor, one knee between his legs. Her mouth attached to his again, and this time, her tongue invaded aggressively, licking over his teeth hungrily. Her fisted hand released his shirt and roamed to his groin, where she encountered his partially stiffened penis through the cloth of his black fatigue pants. Running her fingers down the length through the tight material, she then palmed it firmly with a deliberate squeeze.

As electricity jolted his nervous system, he put his palm between her breasts and stiff-armed her away, pushing her back upright. Given just enough space to move, he shot to his feet in front of her, both of them breathing hard.

"Stop. Jack...I...didn't come down here to just...score." _Smooth. Get out of here while your brain is still in charge._

"Shep...!" He was already at the bottom of the stairs, and he didn't look back. She could think of nothing to say in time, and then he was gone. _Fuck fuck fuck! _The biotic grabbed one of her datapads and hurled it into the wall, shattering it.

She had been close to getting him off her goddamn case and leaving her the hell alone. Now, unexpectedly, her body was screaming for him. Not part of the plan. Jack sat down heavily, rested her elbows on her knees, and held her head in her hands.

"Fuck!"

* * *

The elevator doors closed in front of him, and he reached down and adjusted a certain area of his pants to make himself more comfortable. _Jesus Christ. _Walking out of that room had been difficult.

_Difficult. I'm picking up Garrus' gift for understatement._

He swiped his hand across his mouth, then looked at his palm. A faint smear of blood-red lipstick was left there. Looking at the controls of the lift, he considered that he could go back. He could walk into that room, sweep the clutter off of one of the big crates, seize her by that impossibly slender waist and throw her right on top of it. He'd seen the look in her eyes, she'd _love_ it. So would he. It would be amazing, animalistic. His entire body was telling him to do that, _right now._

As the lift opened, he told his entire body to _shut the hell up_, and he entered his cabin.


	13. Starting Over

His face seemingly carved from stone, Commander Shepard stood before his crew, just beyond the stasis capsule of Grunt. The _Normandy_ was already orbiting Tuchanka, having just arrived in time for this, the first shift of the day. The majority of the crew was currently gathered in the shuttle bay, respectfully at attention for the final departure of one of their specialists, returning to a homeworld he had barely known.

Shepard spoke only briefly. At the time, she was surprised by his brevity, but in later days, she would come to recognize the subtlety in his gesture. Krogan culture placed little regard in long-winded speeches and ceremony. The honesty of a few words became quickly insincere in their eyes, if stretched too far. The _Normandy _captain mentioned his impatience with great fondness, as well as his bottomless courage and curiosity, both of which he used without restraint as he had explored this new life he had abruptly been thrust into.

He spoke matter-of-factly of Grunt's singular efforts in assisting the Normandy team in defeating a new and powerful foe, and now would be returned to his mother planet and buried in the traditional grounds of his newly-joined Clan Urdnot.

And it was done.

In the coming days, Jack would barely remember the words. The look on Shepard's face, the sound of his voice while he spoke them, _that_ she would never forget.

* * *

As a powered trolley loaded Grunt's chamber into the shuttle, the crew mingled for a few moments, making quiet small talk. After speaking with Kelly for a moment, Shepard returned the quick hug she offered, then he turned away and nearly walked into Jack, who had approached him quietly from behind.

"Hey," she said simply, her arms crossed defensively, as she looked around the room, avoiding his eyes. "Um...who's going down to Tuchanka with you to..._deliver_ Grunt? Or whatever you'd call it."

Shepard pointed with his head, then walked around to an unoccupied area in front of the shuttle for a bit of privacy. "Myself, Dr. Chakwas, and Garrus. Joker offered to fly the shuttle for us. All of the crew who knew Wrex, basically. We thought it would be the most respectful thing we could do. I don't think we'll be involved in the actual final ceremony. I doubt non-clan, non-krogan would be anywhere near such a thing."

"Yeah." She hesitated as if digging for the words. "I...feel bad about Grunt too, I liked him. Zaeed and I...were teaching him to play cards." She looked down at the floor, and her voice went quiet as she fondly played through a memory. "He was pretty shitty at it, 'course. But then again he was the sober one...ended up doing ok by the end of the night when the old man and I were kind of messed up...well, I guess it was still _our_ money. He didn't have any so we spotted him some creds to get him going..."

Shepard held up his hands in a stop motion. "Wait, what? You guys were all...hanging out? I...didn't know that. I mean, that's _great_." He cleared his throat which had abruptly tightened in sudden gratitude. "That was good of you guys. Makes me feel a little better that he had some people to spend time with, and _you_, also...I mean, I didn't expect it really. I'm happy to hear it, for both of you."

Jack shrugged. "Not a big deal, it was just a few times. He popped out into a world he didn't know. He was kinda like a kid, didn't know much outside of certain stuff he was taught. I could relate to him, y'know?" The convict sniffed and rubbed her nose with her hand, looking at the floor. Shepard resisted the urge to reach out place a hand on her arm, or place his arm around her small shoulders. He didn't do either, she would be insulted and hate him for it. He did nothing and felt cowardly for it.

"And Zaeed's a...well, I don't mind being around him. He says what he thinks, doesn't play head games." She looked up at him for an instant with still-glistening eyes before looking away, in implied accusation? "He doesn't have any, y'know, _woman interest_ in me...I think he's past that shit now and put it aside. So we play cards, I get to chill and drink, he gets to smoke and tell war stories, it's cool."

Shepard nodded in reply. "Why don't you come with us? The krogan will be pleased that Grunt had friends who fought beside him, and cared enough to come to show respect. Wait a second." He looked over at Zaeed just as he caught him walking to the elevator.

"Zaeed." He moved over to catch up with the scarred old merc, still limping from the previous day's leg injury, but more notably with one arm in a carbon immobilizing shield, strapped to his chest. "Jack mentioned you may wish to come down with us, to pass over Grunt to Clan Urdnot."

Zaeed looked momentarily surprised at the offer, before squinting and rubbing his chin with his good hand. "Ah...well, not like it'll do him a hell of a lotta good, but I guess it would be the good thing to do. Hope none of the krogan clans there carry a grudge about some old stuff I did."

"Wrex would kill anyone who started something up at the meeting grounds, especially under these circumstances."

"Guess you're right...Wrex is well-known in my kind of circles, always heard he was a stand-up fella. Alright, I'm in. Let's see the young lad home."

* * *

On Horizon, a shuttle landed at a landing pad that gleamed with newness, barely a month old. The door opened, revealing a blue-armored and attractive redhead who dutifully hopped out, weapon at half-ready, and scanned the surroundings. A partially-constructed complex of enormous size lay before her, crawling with workers and construction vehicles. Behind her fanned out two other mercs in like armor, followed by four men in business suits.

Dr. Henry Lawson raised a brow, and tilted his head slightly. "Well, despite my reservations, I must admit he spared no expense, as per usual. It will be good working with full budget again." Lawson was a wealthy man, but Cerberus was possibly among the most powerful Earth-based corporations in existence.

The dark-haired and hawkish-nosed man next to him nodded. "Agreed. And I understand this isn't all of it."

"Correct, Radim. You'll remain with the shuttle, and you'll be heading up as project lead the other thing we discussed. Congratulations." The two men shook hands briefly. "I'll talk with you often and offer my input, but this is your field as well. I trust you with something even as valuable as this," he stated as his metal briefcase exchanged hands to the other man. "I understand your destination lab already has cryogenic stasis material up and running, so you have time to transfer that without risk. You'd best be started."

Radim nodded with a cold smile, and returned to the shuttle. He was followed by the red-haired mercenary woman, who strode after him confidently. All evidence of her limp had vanished over the last several days. She left the two companion Blue Suns mercs with the three remaining men, and followed the scientist into the shuttle, jumping in after him, and taking position at the door while he sat.

The older man spoke as the engines began to whine in warm-up. "You've been highly professional and courteous, and I'll admit being contained in that bunker for days didn't encourage good manners from us in return. I'll mention that in my report to your employers during the next payment cycle, miss...?"

His smile was lizard-like, she thought. Without warmth and entirely calculated.

Briefly turning her back to him, the woman grimaced with distaste and slid the door closed with a solid _thunk_, then sat opposite him. Leaning back with arms closed and resting her head against the hull in relaxation, she replied with detached professionalism.

"Appreciate that, sir. I'm Jentha."

* * *

At the end of ground-mission, the returning shuttle crew was normally greeted by a large number of crew, Cerberus and specialists alike. Questions, welcomes, slaps on the back, assistance to any wounded, etc.

This time was no different, except for the respectful silence. Shepard and the shuttle team filed through the gathered crew without a word, entering the lift.

Shower, meeting with Miranda for reports, dinner with Jack eaten in silence. No joy was taken from this day, and things didn't improve when he spoke with the Illusive Man in the communications room. Shepard left it convinced that the Cerberus leader had used Ashley and Shepard as bait for the Collectors to hit Horizon on that day. On one hand, he could not entirely disagree that having them attack a colony of their choosing as opposed to a random location held tactical advantages.

That would be cold comfort to the one-third of the colony that had been taken away, and their families.

In addition, the previous night with Jack had gone to a new and uncomfortable place. The emotionally unstable convict obviously had taken his interest in her as purely physical, and had tried to act on that.

_Or, was she trying to define what they were to each other?_

Dreading the aftermath if that had been allowed to happen, he'd left. Jack was often exceedingly hard to understand - she drew upon a deep well of hurt and anger that she could apply to nearly any situation - but Shepard had finely-honed instincts and he treated his gut feelings impeccably.

She may have felt rejected, but given her history - or at least the parts he was aware of - it seemed the lesser of two evils. He'd rather bruise her then break her.

Day-to-day, she was _so_ unpredictable. On occasions, they had reached almost comfortable conversation, and on others, she was defensive and closed down, hot for an argument. Every visit was a trip into the unknown, and he had to admit it was part of the..._fun_? No, not quite fun. But exciting.

* * *

_...born on April 11, 2154, is a graduate of the Systems Alliance N7 special forces program (service no. 5923-AC-2826), and is initially assigned to the SSV Normandy as Executive Off..._

_...Commander Shepard was on shore leave on Elysium when the Blitz occurred. Shepard rallied a small resistance force of able civilians, located arms for them, and managed to nearly single-handedly repulse the enemy ground force long enough for reinforcements to arr..._

_...shortly after his reported death in 2183, under conditions still largely unknown to the general public, a memorial was built on Elysium to commemorate the late Commander John Shepar..._

"Fuck." Jack irritably tossed the datapad back on the table beside her, and leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms, stretching her legs out before her, and slouching down. The extranet was full of Shepard bullshit. Official documents, fawning fan-sites, military history buffs, news media archives, documentary vids with actors 'recreating the events' of the original Normandy crew. Tribute sites created after his death with weepy messages posted by hundreds of thousands; thousands more with furious hate-messages referring to the deaths of the Alliance soldiers he'd doomed to save the Council. More vids showing hundreds of virtual funerals held for him, and media coverage of the real one.

Lots of camera time was given to a standing row of onlookers, led by a stoic, older black man in unadorned civvy clothes. He was flanked by an old, scar-faced white dude, his Alliance Navy dress uniform covered in medals and ribbons. Jack spotted Garrus, his arm protectively around the shoulder of a weeping asari who covered her face and seemed on the edge of collapse. An unusually grim-looking Joker. A quarian girl who seemed to be staring at her feet, her shoulders slack and hunched. And the big soldier chick from Horizon who stood stiffly at attention, yet wore the expression of someone hopelessly crushed.

Why did this piss her off so much? _Because people love him. When he died people felt pain and loss. People felt lost without him. He's important. You're none of these things, to anyone. _She wasn't jealous, she didn't give a flying shit about any of those things being about her. The thing that bothered her was...why was _he_ spending time around _her? _He was interested in _something_ but what the _fuck_ was it? He was a hero, she was _nothing_. An experiment, a prisoner, a pirate, a criminal, a fraud. _Told yourself your whole life you were so badass. You're so tough you're not even honest with yourself._

_Here's some fucking honesty. When I die, nobody will give a shit. Galaxy's exactly the same with or without me._

* * *

In a tiny, cramped room, with barely room for the small table, terminal, and folding chair, a woman was lit by only the glow of a terminal as she typed out messages on the orange holographic keyboard.

_Goddamn reports. Fucking endless waste of my time is what it is._

The content of the reports didn't offer her respite from the one thing she didn't want to think about.

Shepard.

Two terrible years of emptiness, followed by him being right in front of her, and what did she do? She went on the offensive. Assumed the worst because of that damned organization he ended up with. He could have showed up dressed as a Nazi officer, fucking goose-stepped in a circle around her and she'd have hardly been more shocked.

Clearly, he felt he owed them something. They did give him a second change, somehow, presuming everything he said was true. Not a lie, but what if they had fed him falsehoods?

_What if it wasn't even...him? How would you make a synthetic person feel real? Feed them memories and a back-story. 'Yeah, you were dead for a while, but now you're not.' It's like a monster-movie._

_But what _is_ a person, other then a collection of emotions and actions and memories? What else do you need to...?_

Dammit, no, it _was_ him. He talked like him, the commanding body language was the same, and his eyes...he had lost one of his soldiers that same hour, and...he felt it. She didn't know at first, and now she felt ashamed that she had laced into him with accusations at such a time.

_Jesus Christ, I was so horrible to him at _so_ the wrong time._

She wished she could go to him, and work it out. She wished he was on an Alliance ship so she could find a way to go with him. And be with him.

_Shut the fuck up, brain, he doesn't think of me that way._

_All the things I've done since he's been gone, and seeing him for ten minutes turned me into a pathetic teenage girl._

_Argh. Calm down._

_Write him a letter, say what you feel when you're not being a huge sniping bitch._

_Right._

* * *

The facility may have been only partially constructed and skeletal, but the head office had been completed. At the top of a nine-story tapered building, Dr. Henry Lawson stood in his main window, overlooking the flurry of activity below him as construction went on relentlessly. Cranes maneuvered about, casting shadows from the evening sun across his face, and cargo shuttles were in never ending cycle as they brought in materials from orbit.

"Doctor Lawson, I trust you are pleased."

The man turned and faced the holographic projection of The Illusive Man. "Indeed. This will be an impressive site very soon. I'm eager to get started. However, I was promised something you have still not delivered."

A pause while the hologram took a pull from the virtual cigarette. "Agreed. A few things, actually. Some of them won't be available to you until your site is complete, as you're not prepared to accept them. The other, however, is something you can make arrangements for while you wait and still have some free time on your hands. I have information on the location of Oriana."

"Tell me."

"Not so fast. The situation is delicate. Miranda may have been discarded by you, but is valuable to me, and I can't be involved with this. I'll provide you with the where - everything else is up to you. Success or failure on your part; either way, Cerberus isn't mentioned. If our connection is somehow revealed, I'll lose Miranda, and possibly Shepard also, who I have an admittedly tenuous hold over as it stands." His statement was punctuated by a sip of brandy. "If I lose them, you lose Oriana in a very permanent fashion. I'll see to it. Just so we are...clear."

"Perfectly."

* * *

Four hundred kilometers away, a shuttle touched down at a much less impressive location. In fact, from the outside, no facility was visible at all. Against the side of a mountain, overhanging a raging river far below, a steel-girdered platform allowed for two shuttle pads of dissimilar size; a narrow walkway to one, and a wide one to the other. Touching down on the smaller of the two pads, the door opened and Jentha stepped out, took a quick scan of the area, then stepped aside. Dr. Radim Mirko exited as well, and took in his new home of the foreseen future. His eyes followed the metal pathway away from the shuttle, down the stairs, and to the large metal doors leading into the side of the mountain.

"Cozy," he noted mirthlessly in his mildly accented voice.

"Security through obscurity, sir. If it helps, it's nicer on the inside. A little."

"I assume things are not completed."

"From what I understand, infrastructure is complete. This site has been here for years and has already housed previous projects. It's been stripped down and is ready for your requirements to be presented to your management. That is about the full extent of my knowledge of this location."

His put on his empty smile once more, like one would assume an article of clothing. "Very good then, after you."

* * *

Shepard set the tray down in front of the biotic, a large plate heaped with some sort of pasta, chicken, vegetable creamy dish. It actually looked pretty good. "Hell must have frozen over, Gardner is actually making some things that approach being real food that don't send people into depression or medical bay."

"Knowing a Cerberus cockbag prepared it is enough to ruin it anyway, so whatever."

"His credit account deposits may say Cerberus, but he's just a blue-collar guy who used to serve on mining rigs on the frontier. Only took the Cerberus job after Batarian raiders got them so hard the company went out of business."

"Yeah, thanks, I totally gave a shit during that whole story." Jack artlessly shoved a huge mouthful in with a plastic fork. "Mmmph. Ok. So maybe it's not bad."

"I'll send your regards to the chef."

Jack gave him the finger with her fork hand, but no anger was in the gesture. Then she noticed that hers was the only plate. "Hey...what's going on?"

"I'm eating upstairs in the mess, I'll leave you alone. G'night, Jack." He turned to leave.

The tattooed woman stopped in mid-chew and blurted with her mouth full, "What...what the shit? We're not cool anymore? I was being _good_ and not freaking out at you for fucking with my head and confusing me with what the hell you even _wanted_."

"I know. I mean, I didn't _know,_ but I _do_ know I've been pushing myself in your space way too much and expecting you to deal with it. I feel like I've been jabbing you with a stick and testing for reaction."

The biotic pushed her plate aside with a smirk and one raised eyebrow. "Actually you had your chance to jab me with y..."

"I'm being serious, Jack."

Her half-smile flew away instantly. "Ok, then fuck it, so am I. This goddamned game you're playing with me, jerking me around...I told you I don't want some stupid dumbass boyfriend, and just saying that word makes me want to _puke_, and you don't want a fuck buddy or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, and that's it then. Simple. Let's cut this bullshit, and you just tell me what to kill."

"I'm not trying to force you into one situation or the other, Jack."

The woman resisted the urge to hurl the plate of pasta directly at his head. "Stop telling me what you're _not_ doing! What _do_ you w..."

"Commander Shepard, you requested that you be notified when we reached Illium orbit approach."

_Oh for..._ "Yes. Thank you, EDI."

Jack shook her head in disgust. "Fucking synthetic bitch. Do you have a signal for her to do that when you're getting talked into a corner?"

"That's not a bad idea actually." _Stop avoiding the truth, coward._

"Ok...listen."

A deep breath. _Say it. _He glanced at her, and her eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

_Ok, so don't look at her. But talk. Go._

"Right. It's no fun being the side that says this first, but I want to be honest."

He settled for addressing the wall, grateful for the perpetual darkness she kept this room in.

"I like you, ok? You can do with that what you want. I guess at some point you can tell me to stick it and I'll just have to accept it. But I know you _just_ well enough to know that's what you'll do immediately without even knowing if that's what you really want."

He threw his hands in the air, as if in exasperation with himself. A glance showed that Jack was still sitting, wearing an oddly neutral expression.

"There. I've said it. Now I'm going to stop thinking about this, and do a job. I need to go down there and try to recruit an asari Justicar, and I really have no idea how to sell this...whole _thing_ to her, but I'm going to try. We'll be here for at least twenty-four hours, so if you want, you can take some shore leave. Two orders. Don't go alone and don't get arrested."

Jack watched silently as he turned and went up the stairs with energy in his step. Perhaps he'd just had a weight removed from his shoulders, or maybe he was simply eager to leave.

In the darkness, her face showed nothing of the newly-formed mass that settled in her chest, freshly transferred from one person to the other.

_Fucking asshole. Yeah, feel free to lay your shit in _my_ lap and then fuck directly off._

_Not ruining my dinner though._

The biotic reached for her plate.


	14. Take This Oath

The slender figure paced nervously in the confines of the elevator, as it slowly moved upwards the one floor from engineering to the crew deck. Not a large vessel by military standards, the frigate-class Normandy was staggeringly expensive per cubic meter of displacement. A dreadnought's worth of credits had been expended upon it, this glittering pinnacle of space-faring technology. Yet - not for the first time - the current passenger in the lift had to wonder exactly where the elevator budget could have possibly gone. Perhaps the ridiculously oversized Tantalus drive core had been paid for with the fucking elevator money.

The doors finally hissed open, revealing the most powerful biotic of her species. A criminal, killer, and survivor of horrors most could not fathom.

She cautiously leaned out of the doors, just far enough to take a peek to the left, then to the right. _Coast is clear. Good._

The very _idea_ of asking someone nicely if they would 'partner up' with her for a planetside shopping trip was making her queasy, but there was no way in hell she was going to get off the ship any other way. Unless she did something drastic like stealing a shuttle, and Shepard would absolutely lose his shit if she pulled a move like _that_.

He was, admittedly, a nice man and not especially quick to anger. But if even half the stories were true - and one of them was from Zaeed, who didn't impress easily - when Shepard got good and mad people tended to get really, really dead. Besides, she owed him big-time for the Pragia thing, and he had taken a real pounding from a krogan battlemaster while doing it.

Not to mention, she'd been down in her hole long enough that the walls were starting to close in. It was go now, or never.

As she quietly walked around the tunnel towards the main crew room, which was the mess hall, she did some mental sorting on who she hoped to find.

Kasumi would be ideal. She didn't push any of Jack's buttons too badly, and Jack had to concede she found her pretty amusing.

Zaeed might be the easiest association she had on the vessel, but the two of them alone in a civilized city would likely violate the "don't get arrested" rule after about twenty minutes.

Joker was..._no, fuck that. _

Thane was really chill, but it was hard to imagine him being interested in going, after all he had just _come_ from there. And he'd be about as fun as doing the dishes.

Mordin? That would be funny for two minutes then she'd want to shoot herself in the skull. Plus, he was a doctor so fuck that. Ditto Chakwas.

Garrus? That's a maybe...but she would reach sarcasm overload by the time the shuttle was halfway there and they'd end up on each other's nerves.

Jacob and Miranda, she'd rather show them the airlock then accompany them on a shopping trip, that and the other twenty or so random Cerberus pukes here.

She was close enough now she could hear people chatting, and the sound of forks on plates. Lunchtime in the mess, so great, she'd have an audience for this bullshit. _Great, just wonderful. Ok, here we go. Let's hear it for Kasumi or Garrus. And one. And two..._

Jack rounded the corner and took in the people at the mess table. Jacob, Dr. Chakwas, Miranda, Kelly Chambers, Gabby Daniels, and...she didn't know his first name, Hadley. Now they all were staring at her, some with forks and spoons or cups halfway to mouths.

_Shit._

"Uh. Hey."

* * *

Nyxeris smiled up at him from behind her reception desk. "Commander Shepard, a pleasure. Liara sends her regrets that she is not available at the moment, but she did leave a message for you. I'm unaware of the contents, but I shall transfer it to your omni-tool." They both raised their forearms and after a brief glow of orange light, it was done.

"Good luck to you, Commander. Liara should be in sometime later today."

"Thank you, Nyxeris, I may still be around. I'll see you later."

As he walked back to Garrus and Kasumi, who were hanging out at the bottom of the administration stairway watching the crowds go by, he read the message. It was short and to the point, and pointed him to a stardock to speak with a "Tracking Officer Dara" in the transportation hub. Good enough, then.

Nyxeris stared at his back as he descended the stairs and away, her face now devoid of all pleasantness.

* * *

"Soooo...I guess I'd like, uh, a day trip down to Illium. And...according to Shepard...I'll need a, uh, buddy."

Silence.

Maybe smiling would help. Jack moved the muscles that technically made for a smile, but the expression didn't reach her eyes. Gabby visibly shuddered.

Silence, again.

"Uh, I'm...going down next. I don't have anyone to go with yet, either."

As one, everyone swiveled their heads and looked at Kelly Chambers, who had her hand half-raised as she spoke.

_Oh Christ._ The talkative Cerberus self-proclaimed shrink. _Maybe it's not too late to run back downstairs and crawl into bed._

"Most of these guys...", Kelly addressed the rest of the table, "...and some others, were down last night. So I think it'll just be the two of us."

More silence.

Kelly cleared her throat before speaking. "I...was considering just calling up a commercial shuttle to take me...us...down, so we could come back at any time, even if I...um, we...had a few drinks or...that sort of thing." The redhead's green eyes were wide as she bravely forged forward.

Miranda was staring holes into the side of Kelly's head as she spoke, trying to telepathically scream at her that feeding Jack alcohol while on shore leave on a planet that _actually had laws_, may just be in fact be _the exact opposite of a very good idea_.

"...buuuut mostly I just wanted to walk around and do a little shopping and such."

Jack crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. _Some drinks, huh? Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Play nice. Pretend you're regular people for a few hours. How bad could it be? And say something._

The biotic nodded. "Ok, great. I'll...uh...well I guess I don't have any things to grab. Wanna just...make the call down and we'll arrange that? You guys...need anything?"

She forced a facsimile of a smile again. _Miranda's right there. Can't resist._

"Miranda? Need a top-up of your perfume? _Arrogant Bitch_, or whatever it's called?"

Miranda sipped her tea, and raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow.

"I'm fine, Jack. I have a full bottle of _Arrogant Bitch_ I've not even opened yet."

Miranda didn't change expression in the slightest, and Jack had to give her a point for a smooth comeback. The convict shrugged and turned to pursue Kelly, who had just hurried past her down the hall with a "please don't start a fight and just follow me" look.

The table relaxed again. "I think she was trying to be mean, but _Arrogant Bitch_ smells just lovely on you, Miranda," Dr. Chakwas commented, taking another spoonful of her soup.

* * *

Entering the shopping district of Nos Astra, Kelly beamed happily, spreading her arms wide as if embracing the entire area. "Finally! I've haven't here in _years_."

She was dressed for an evening out, with a loose white shirt, black strappy heels, and a tiny black miniskirt. Not having seen her out of her baggy Cerberus trousers with the stupid thigh pockets that nobody used for anything, Jack had to concede that Kelly did have really nice legs and a terrific ass.

Tits were nothing special, but then the thin biotic glanced down at herself and decided she didn't have the right to throw stones. Besides, Kelly was a redhead who obviously tanned nicely, so it wasn't like she deserved any more advantages in life.

The biotic was just happy she hadn't been discovered checking her out on the shuttle, what with Kelly crossing her legs tightly because that miniscule miniskirt rode up ridiculously high when she was sitting. Jack preferred the dudes but she'd taken a few swings on the other side now and then, just for variety and all, and you could do worse then a perky redhead.

Speaking of perky, Kelly was just getting started.

"Ok, just down here is a clothing store I've been reading about and _dying_ to visit. We'll have to get you into some things too!" With that, Kelly peeled off into the crowd, her heels click-clicking the hard floor as Jack struggled to keep up with her in the throng of various races as they flowed in all directions. _Crowds of people. Strangers. All around. Shopping._ She was in hell.

Jack finally stumbled into the fourth store of the day and out of the streams of people, having just caught Kelly gleefully skipping inside. "Yay! I'm here!" the Cerberus redhead exclaimed, nearly jumping for joy. "Ok, you sit here a moment...", Jack collapsed into a rich leather chair, wiping the sweat from her face with forearm, "...and I'll go browsing. Mind my purse! Omigod that looks ah-maaaaayzing!"

Must...follow her around...forever...warn...all men...from all races...from marrying her.

"Look at this!" Kelly playfully spun in a circle, the sunny orange dress billowing out as she did so, giving Jack an eyeful of tiny black thong for an instant. Jack, slouched in her leather chair with bags of already-paid-for clothes all around her, looked up from her chin in her hands and grunted. _Fuck you, tramp, I am dying here. Die-ying._ Her little quiet pit on the _Normandy_ now seemed like a dream-home, and so very far away.

"Oh! And stand up for a second!" Kelly was being so goddamned upbeat that she found herself heaving herself up with a moan, and Kelly immediately pressed designer leather pants against her, the legs open on each side and held together only by laces. "This is SO you. You can rock that whole cyberpunk biker hottie look, and still show off your tight little ass that I could bounce a credit chit off of!"

For a chilling moment, Jack thought Kelly might slap her right on the buns to accent her point. Them she'd have had to kill her. Or herself. One of them, anyway.

"Kelly...Kelly we...need to stop. I need some food, and a cold beer, and you need to take a rest before I fucking Shockwave you right into that decorative pond." Yes, this goddamn store had an internal decorative pond. "I have been more patient than at any other time in my entire life, so can we pretty please with fucking sprinkles on it, just sit down and order some dinner?"

"Oh sure!" Kelly beamed widely. "I'm hungry, too, and I could use a glass of wine. I'm almost shopped out." Jack resisted the urge to fist-pump and let loose a shout of victory.

* * *

Nineteen minutes later, Kelly Chambers and a convicted pirate sat in a breezy outdoor cafe overlooking a beautiful view of the setting sun over the city skyline, thirty-one stories above the ground. Jack was sitting with her head buried into the menu, making the occasional _hmm_ noises. Meanwhile, Kelly absently sipped her glass of wine and observed the patrons around them, while also keeping an eye on her six shopping bags overflowing with merchandise.

An asari waitress came over to take their dinner orders, glancing first at Jack, raising a white penciled eyebrow at the full-body ink barely concealed by her tiny leather vest, then moving smoothly to Kelly. "Oh, hi, I'll just have...this grilled fish and a salad with a vinegar dressing," she said, pointing to a menu item as she spoke. It was a local Ilium-native fish she could not pronounce anyway.

"Very good, and you...uh...miss?"

"Right, hi. Do you have anything that even resembles chicken wings? Because I would murder a whole school of orphans right now for some chicken wings," Jack added, smiling sweetly up at the blanching young maiden.

"Uh...we...do have a similar bird on Thessia, and they impor..."

"Fan-_tas_-tic. I'll have, like, a dozen of _those_ bad boys, spicy like a _bitch_ if you can do that, and two beers that I'll take up front. Potato skins! Asari have that? _Fuck_ _yes_, totally want those too. And the deep-fried peppers-filled-with-cheese things."

"Wow, Jack, is that all?" Kelly raised an eyebrow. That was a lot of food for a girl who must weigh about ninety-five pounds.

"Never had dinner with a biotic before, I see. You're right, it may be a long night if we're dancing later." She scanned the menu again. "Ah, hell, I'll just have some dessert after, the bar will have snacks I'm sure. I'm good!" Jack snapped the menu back together with satisfaction, and the waitress took them and hurried away, eager to be away from this table. "Huh, she's kind of a tightass."

Kelly drained her glass of wine and leaned over, watching the asari's hips as she retreated to the kitchen. "She sure is. Maybe I'll have to polish my blue wings tonight."

"Huh?"

"Oh. Military slang. Getting your blue wings means fu...", Kelly looked at the asari sitting all around them and lowered her voice, leaning forward, "...fucking your first asari." Wide smile from the redhead.

Jack blinked. "Oh, hell. Sweet. They should offer that up as an actual merit badge. Wait, _polish_? So you already _have_ these blue wings?"

Kelly sipped her wine noncommittally, looking innocent.

"You dirty little perv. Didn't picture Cerberus employees engaging in nailing aliens." Jack's two beers arrived, and she took a long grateful pull at one of them, sighing happily.

"What? I'm open-minded. Hating aliens isn't a corporate requirement or anything. Hell, I've gone Turian too, once."

Jack's eyebrows shot up.

"It was, heh, pretty awesome, but I was covered in medi-gel for two days afterwards so I won't be doing _that_ again anytime soon. They're...sharp and pointy all over and not really into finesse. Good thing I was partially numbed by alcohol at the time."

Kelly leaned forward again, and opened the neck of her shirt to show three little faded scars at the base of her neck. "He bit me, right there. I think it was a possession thing, kind of hot. I never saw him again, but he certainly owned me _that_ night."

"Jesus, Kelly. My mind. You have blown it. It is now _blown_."

"I guess I could have stopped him, but he was really distracting me with...well anyway. I can't show you the other scar in public, it's in a bad place...oh, thank you." The waitress had returned and gave Kelly a second glass of wine.

"Holy fuck, Kelly. I had you all wrong. I thought I got around, but it was all, y'know, human. Well, the consensual ones." Jack grimaced even as she said it, and Kelly looked down at the tablecloth. "Ah...shit. You know, I'm gonna stop talking. I made it _this_ far without fucking up your day too much. Everything I say is likely getting back into a report, anyway."

Kelly shook her head as she made a chopping motion with her hand. "Hell no! I'm on shore leave, first day in a month. I'm off the clock. We're just chicks having fun today, so the Illusive Man can go eat a dick for all I care."

Kelly reached for her wineglass as Jack surprised herself by barking a short, startled laugh.

"And I read the reports from Thane and Shepard about what they saw at Pragia. For what it's worth, and if that's 'nothing' I totally understand, that place sounded fucking awful. Gave me some second thoughts for the first time about who I work for. If this mission wasn't so important I'd have started looking for other jobs, but...you know, it's _Shepard_."

Jack rolled her eyes as she took another welcome pull on her beer. "Yeah yeah. All the bitches want to _work_ under Shepard. Fuck, he must continuously get pelted with blue panties while he walks around this place."

Kelly smirked. "Yeah, I can't imagine why all the girls want to get with the famous, handsome, honest, and courageous war hero who saved the Citadel, represents all of humanity as a Council Spectre, and commands his own ship. It really just makes no sense!" The redhead faked a slack-jawed look of utter disbelief.

"Fuck you. Oh, awesome, thanks babe!" Jack rubbed her hands together as the nervous asari girl placed a small pile of saucy bird wings in front of her, as well as her other dishes. "Good thing we're not on a date, 'cause I'm about to fuck this food up hardcore."

Kelly leaned forward to her own plate and sniffed the spices crusted on her fish fillet. "Mmm. Don't worry, I'll warn you if you have anything in your teeth before you start humping any guys in the club."

Jack's lipstick was already layered with a shiny coat of wing sauce. "Mmm fucking God, yes. When are we due back on the ship?"

"I pinged Joker earlier on my omni, and somewhere in between the crude innuendo he mentioned something about tomorrow noon. Shepard extended the leave a bit because work on the ship is running over, blah-blah I stopped caring. I already booked a hotel room for us to crawl back into sometime in the wee hours. Oh, don't look at me like that, it has two beds. Just a crash place for when I can't shake my ass anymore." Kelly popped in a bite of fish and grinned.

"Hot damn. Are you always this much fun?"

"Nah. Just when I have free time and alcohol." Looking down at her plate while arranging a bite on her fork that had both fish and a crunchy salad piece, Kelly inadvertently waited until Jack had crammed down a few wings, wiped her fingers on a napkin, and was taking an eager mouthful of her cold beer.

"Soooo...I gotta ask...are you and the Commander fucking?"

* * *

Stepping through the security door of the warehouse, Shepard quickly ducked to the side as an asari clad in a yellow Eclipse hardsuit soared almost into him. Slamming into the metal wall, she folded nearly in half with a _crunch_, and then hit the ground hard. She didn't move.

Another asari in identical armor was in front of them, but not looking in Shepard's direction. She held a gun in front of her, but was backpedaling. "Those were my best troops!"

Walking towards her with casual, elegant steps, was a tall asari of regal bearing. Wearing a tight scarlet light armor he'd never seen before, her feet were clicking in matching heeled red boots not so unlike Miranda's. Generous cleavage was on display, and small red trim pieces attached to her face, completing her striking look.

Not that she especially needed it. She was luminous.

Her aqua skin and clear cyan eyes glowed in a way he had never seen before. Her appearance and body language conveyed that she was an ageless mystical creature born of the stars, no mundane creature of mere flesh. Every step commanded attention and radiated power.

She owned this whole world and she knew it. _That is a Justicar._ _That is Samara._ Shepard knew it without a shred of doubt in his mind. Not even the ferociously powerful Aria T'Loak commanded presence such as this. As she stepped slowly closer to the retreating merc, her body crawled with brilliant biotic power that flowed over her. Like crashing surf against uncaring, stoic rocks. Eternal.

"Tell me what I need to know, and I will be gone from here." Spoken quietly and unhurried, her voice was smooth, the tone cool and nearly friendly. Nearly, as the undercurrent was clear. Not accepting her offer carried deadly consequences.

"Where did you send her?"

The asari merc shook her head. "No! She would hurt me in ways you can't imagine!"

"The name of the ship? Your life hangs on the answer." Her tone suggested that even asking twice was a tremendous gift of mercy.

The merc's gun came up. "You'll have to kill..."

Samara's hand flashed up, and made a fist. The merc was enveloped in a cloud of blue light, and then the fist was pulled back and past Samara, behind her. Following it like a shot, the merc screamed and went past her like a bullet, smashing through a huge window and vanishing to the warehouse level below, where the sound of impact followed.

Samara had not moved. She still faced away from the shattered window behind her, her expression utterly unchanged. Finally, the Justicar turned and neatly hopped up to the ledge of the shattered window, and jumped through the opening. Her body burst into glowing blue power, and she gracefully flowed down as if performing a beautiful dive into a pond. Shepard, Garrus, and Kasumi rushed forward and looked down through the same window, not wishing to interfere.

The battered merc grunted with pain as she backed away, pushing herself across the floor on her back, using her hands and elbows, and the heel of one foot. The other leg dragged uselessly after her. Samara strode forward and pinned her neck to the floor in the gap of her heeled boot, cutting off her escape with a strangled cry.

"The name of the ship she was on?" All pretense of being cordial had fled her voice. It was now clear with only one emotion. Finality.

"Go...to...hell!"

Samara considered this for only a moment.

"Find peace...in the embrace of the Goddess."

The Justicar viciously twisted her foot, and the snapping of the merc's spine echoed in the cavernous room.

* * *

The asari at the next table helpfully patted Jack on the back as she coughed and choked helplessly, bent nearly double next to the table. Her shoulders heaved and her biotics flared involuntarily as she nearly retched, trying to clear her lungs of cold, foamy beer. After several moments of horrible choking noises, pathways to oxygen were cleared enough that she could sit upright, blinking and wiping her eyes.

Jack held her napkin to her face as she mopped up tears and running mascara, part of the heavy makeup she wore, that served much like the ink on her body - as daily armor against dealing with other people. Armor that was helpless against a perceptive, cheerful redhead with the verbal frankness of a elcor prostitute.

"Jack! I'm so sorry!" Kelly helpfully passed the sputtering biotic one of her spare napkins, which was accepted and used to wipe up her beer-splattered lap and hands. Jack drew in a deep, wheezing breath and waved off the asari behind her who had been slapping her back.

"Ok, ok! Stop pounding...the shit out of me, already! I mean, thanks and all, but...fuck." She coughed again, one hand held to her sternum.

The asari turned and shrugged at her companion. Jack wiped her eyes again, frowning at the heavy black smudges.

"Jesus flying fuck, Kelly...you just tried...to _murder_ me. Do I look like...a wet raccoon now?" Jack choked out as she blinked at the redhead several times with glistening eyes, blackness smudged around them.

Kelly gave her an appraising look, then shrugged. "Actually, it looks pretty hot. Some girls work for hours with a toolkit of crap to get eyes like that." Kelly squinted at her. "You know, looking past the, well, rather extreme haircut and the stuff you layer on your face, you're honestly the prettiest girl on the ship, by far."

Jack made a face of confusion in response. _What the fuck?_ The biotic was absolutely not comfortable with this topic of conversation and dismissively waved her hand. "Yeah, whatever. Can we go back to eating now? Don't say anything fucked up for about five minutes, and I might not choke to death on my chicken wings."

Kelly had, at some point, started working on her third glass of wine. "I'm serious! You have the bone structure of a model. Is that it? You dress like that and got the tats to avoid that kind of attention?"

Jack's eyes came up, finally flashing with real anger. "Listen, ginger...I had all the pretty beaten and cut out of me by Cerberus before I even hit puberty, and raped out of me after that in prison. We've had an ok time so far so don't fuck it up now."

An asari at the next table was staring at her with widened eyes, her own fork halfway to her mouth. "What the _fuck_ are you looking at?" The asari and her companion were both suddenly extremely interested in their own food.

Kelly rocked back in her chair, her face horrified. "Oh, shit...I'm...I feel awful...wine makes me...I don't think before I speak. I'm not trying to tease you or anything." Kelly fiddled with her napkin. "Do you want us to go back to the ship?"

_Oh for...fuck._ It was like trying to stay mad at a kitten. Jack blew out a deep breath and calmed herself. "No. Let's just be cool and eat. After, you can dance until your ass falls off, and I'll get drunk and be an angry bitch by myself for a while. I have to be pretty fucking upset to blow off chicken wings and beer."

* * *

To Shepard's complete surprise, Samara's eyes flashed white, and she bent to one knee before him, her head held low. Officer Anaya immediately stood from her chair, as if witnessing something sacred and not wishing to be disrespectful.

"By the code, I will serve you. Your choices are my choices, your morals are my morals. Your wishes _are_ my code." Her body flared with light suddenly, and Shepard flinched and raised a hand to shade his eyes. Samara stood as the light faded, even as Officer Dara and Shepard exchanged glances. Dara's face was slack with disbelief, he didn't fail to note. Whatever just happened was clearly exceptional.

Samara stood straight and faced the N7 commando again. "If you make me do anything dishonorable, I will be forced to kill you once I am released from my oath."

Shepard, normally unimpressed with the rituals and rites of traditional authority, found himself resisting the urge to bow to her respectfully, and instead nodded solemnly. "Samara, I am admittedly unknowing of your ways, but I can see this is an extremely important act you have chosen to honor me with. I will prove to you, I hope, that you have not misplaced your trust."

Behind him, Kasumi exchanged a look with Garrus, and leaned into him to whisper, "Wow, the big guy can be pretty smooth when he wants to be."

Garrus ducked down to be next to her hooded face, and murmured in reply, "Smooth indeed. Clearly he's been watching my style."


	15. Something I Can Never Have

Emerging from the teeming asari horde of the mid-evening downtown, Kelly now had her arm comfortably draped over the smaller biotic's shoulder as they strolled. In the interest of not walking awkwardly with her arm hanging between them, Jack had placed her hand around Kelly's waist, mentally rolling her eyes at herself.

In truth, it was nice being able to disconnect her mind, ignore the thousands of asari and smattering of other races, and just let the redhead steer her around while she was free to look at the floor or even close her eyes. Plus, with a perfume that reminded her of vanilla and cherries, Kelly smelled pretty nice.

The redhead leaned in even closer. "Let's recap from earlier, hmm? So you're _not_ fucking him, is what I'm getting." A slight slur in her voice, Kelly's face was still flushed with wine, and she gave Jack an encouraging squeeze as she spoke. Walking was a little difficult. Kelly was naturally taller than the tattooed girl, and in addition, the heels she was wearing made her tower over Jack by nearly five inches.

"I know he has dinner with you most nights," she continued. "He didn't say anything but...hey, process of elimination, and I've seen everyone else in the mess hall. Nothing going on there?"

_Argh._ Jack's face twisted into a sneer. "Are you fuckin' crazy? Do you have no idea what I am? My face is on _wanted posters_, even here. I think Shep pulled some Spectre strings or something. Which is the only reason I'm even walking around here right now, without the law dropping me with stun guns."

The biotic, after her aborted attempt to have a beer with lunch that had mostly landed in her lap and on the floor, had been soothed of her annoyance with a large, green, lime-tasting drink that Kelly had bought for her in apology. It had a dainty red flower sticking out of it, which made her feel like a fucking idiot even taking it off the tray, but the drink itself had the bite of light-drive coolant. She was starting to really feel that one. It was making her face feel warm while it loosened her tongue.

"He popped me out of _prison_ to blow shit up for him on this goddamn mission, which must really chap his good-samaritan ass. Y'know, I didn't know fuck-all about him until recently when I had to look it all up on exnet, but he's a goddamn war hero who walks on water as far as the general sheep are concerned. Oh yeah, until he _died_ on a mission _they_ sent him on, and now he's like, a huge traitor because Cerb found him first? _What the fuck._"

Jack shook her head and made an effort to reset her emotions. She was starting to work herself into an angry place while forgetting what the question was. "What was I sayin'? Right. Yeah, we've talked a bunch like he talks to everyone, I guess, you know...that _thing_ he does like once a day, Zaeed n' Grunt told me about it. Every day, right on time. Checkin' in on his people like they don't know how to chew their food without him...and he's _such_ a fucking insufferable boy scout, he's nice to people, eats vegetables, shit, he doesn't even swear much - and I bet he folds his shirt up nice when he goes to bed."

Jack pointed one finger into her open mouth and made an exaggerated gagging noise. "Told him to get lost a few times, and next day, there he is again...asking you what's up, how are _things_, Jesus, it's like sand on stone. He wears ya down by being all cool and reasonable, and before you know it you crack and then you're chatting. Pisses me off after he leaves, knowing he suckered me in, _again_."

Looking down still, she could see Kelly's hand from the long arm draped on her shoulder. Manicured pink nails, a small but tasteful silver ring with a gleaming blue jewel, and smooth, healthy skin. Jack brought her own hand up for a moment, and peered at it critically. The nails were short, blunt, and rough. Ink circled each knuckle, and the edges of the ink had seeped into the spiderwebs of scars layered on scars, at the time of application.

Hundreds of times, she had struck out with the tiny fists of her child self, out of anger, panic, or fear. Flailing at her armored captors, punching at the walls, beating at that hated window in her room while she screamed herself hoarse. Striking madly, blindly at the face of her young opponents when biotics didn't finish the job. Her bloodied hands rising and falling over and over again, trying to sate the drugged bloodlust pounding through her veins. Eventually, the disembodied voices from the observation rooms would call an end to the proceedings, and the armored guards would come forth.

Jack felt the room darken around her as she closed in on herself. Kelly was soft, pretty, and friendly to a fault. The biotic labeled herself mentally, like checking off a list. Firing salvos at herself inside of her mind, relishing the hurt as she twisted a knife of cruelty into her own spirit.

_Ugly. Skinny. Angry. Deceitful. Criminal. Uneducated. Jobless. Murderer._

"That was a _very_ long answer to a simple question. Sounds like you think about him a lot." Kelly squeezed her again and stuck out her tongue at her.

"Fuck you," Jack replied quietly.

Emboldened by alcohol and their time together so far, Kelly mistook the biotic's lack of volume for insincerity. "Hey babe, I'm just checking the lay of the land, as it were. If you're not interested, I'm going to totally hit that. I don't think I'm his relationship type, but still...he's not been with a girl since he came back to life, he's gotta be hurting bad...strong healthy man like that..." She trailed off wistfully, like she was speaking of a delicious dessert, one that lay just out of reach behind a store window.

Jack blinked and looked up, frowning at the words from the redhead. "How the fuck would you know that? And, why would he not be into you?" The convict completely agreed with that assessment, instinctually, but wanted to hear the reasoning.

"It's my job to know, I'm the ship's counselor. He comes to me all the time and checks in on the mood of the crew, that's why I'm always pestering everyone and digging up stuff. I need to know upfront before someone cracks and shoots out a window, depressurizes a hallway. That's just a _shitload_ of paperwork."

"Anyway, he's a born soldier. He straps on some guns, eats a crappy field ration, slaps on some armor, shoots a geth. This whole hero-captain thing is just his recent body of work. Me? I went to a nice school, I had nice clothes, didn't even play sports outside of a little track and field. I don't really get dirty much other than metaphorically..." Jack rolled her eyes. "I just can't picture him with someone like me as his other half, y'know? I'd bore the shit out of him. Kind of sucks but I know people enough to be realistic." Kelly's voice briefly went pensive, and Jack suddenly felt intrusive to her personal thoughts.

"Yeah, well. I'd be an office drone if I was planetside all the time, and on the _Normandy_, I'm a glorified secretary. I don't think Shepard is a 'date the secretary' kind of man. Anyway, as things are now, who knows when it all ends? We might never get to the Reapers. His previous ship was cut up and it exploded, that could be _us_ someday. Long-term plans don't make a lot of sense. So I'll settle for undoing a few buttons on my shirt and seeing if I can get him out of his pants for a night." Her grin was laced with both good humor and a wicked, feral hunger.

Before she could stop herself, Jack scoffed. "He doesn't play that w..." _Oh, shit. Oh shit, no I didn't just do that._

"How do you..." Kelly stopped walking abruptly, and Jack nearly stumbled but Kelly's arm on her shoulder held her up. "You tried to get him, didn't you?" The Cerberus yeoman didn't seem put out by this at all; in fact, she looked thrilled at this new discovery, like she had uncovered a priceless artifact.

"Fuck no!" Jack's face was pinched with denial.

Kelly's gaze didn't waver at all, nor the smile or the gleaming green eyes.

The biotic sighed, and lifted her hands in surrender. "Oh, fuck you. Ugh. Fuck, it's...been awhile, ok? I..._yeah_. Fine. Tried to shut up him up by jumping him. He bailed. Whatever."

The redhead shrugged in response. "Nothing in his known history - and our files are extensive - ever suggested he took relationships lightly. In fact, he's been notable since he was twenty-two years old and in all that time, there's no suggestion of even a single one-night stand. He's defensive against women who react to his reputation." Hearing her own words, Kelly frowned. "Guess that doesn't help my chances, I gushed like a teenager when he first came onboard. Not my best moment. Damn. Poor guy, it'd be good for him. He takes on a terrible amount of stress."

Kelly looked left and right, taking in the crowd as they passed around them both like flowing water. "You know, since we've been down here, there's been about twenty hot human guys that walked right past us, close enough to touch and you didn't even look at them. Don't worry, I looked for both of us."

Jack had never even thought to look around at these other people. "I...those...dudes just come here looking to fuck asari chicks."

"Of course, _but_ you didn't think of that reason to not look at them until just now. Maybe you already have someone in mind?"

The biotic sighed, folding her arms defensively.

_Bitch is a lot smarter than she looks._

Kelly scanned the area again, then made a noise of surprise. "Hey...that's Garrus and Kasumi getting out of that skycar! And _Shepard!_ Come on!"

_Aw bullshit._

* * *

Kasumi and Garrus had settled into the role of serving as Shepard's bodyguards over the last few hours, as whenever they were around the general public here on Illium, asari that recognized him would start to compete for his attention...just flagging down a skycar to get here, somewhat close to the docks, had been a maze of attractive blue girls yelling, waving, some striking hopefully seductive poses. Evidently, the news of his return to the living was common knowledge now, being fresh media news at the moment, and here the famous man was, live and in person. Garrus and Kasumi exchanged looks for the hundredth time with a 'this is fucking crazy' expression.

Shepard had discovered that having Samara walk in front of him dissuaded most people from bothering him, so they made their way in single file. Kasumi went first, gently navigating the crowd and picking pathways. Following her was the commanding stroll of Samara, striding in the unhurried pace of someone accustomed to not being slowed by interruptions. Close behind her was Shepard, who wore his helmet and kept his face low, keeping his eyes to the center of the Justicar's back. Bringing up the rear was Garrus, who deflected the occasional blue maiden who caught on to his identity, and tried to get Shepard's attention by approaching him from behind.

His flanged voice kept up a steady flow of remarks as he turned away interested asari who tried to give chase.

"Sorry, official business."

"Sorry, he's very busy right now."

"Sorry, maybe he'll embrace eternity with you some other time."

"Sorry, Commander Shepard has a very full schedule and is not currently accepting requests to randomize DNA with you..."

That last one had earned him a burning glare from Shepard, who had spared him a backwards look. Garrus looked at him in mock innocence, hands wide and palms out. "Whaaaat? You _are_ quite busy!"

"Kasumi!" Kelly's voice rang out over the buzz of the bustling crowd.

The Japanese infiltrator had seen Kelly and Jack first, and had headed for them even before her summons. No point in trying to dodge the waving, yelling, and evidently tipsy redhead, regardless. More interesting to the thief was that she had the grimacing Jack in a near-headlock and was dragging her along, albeit without much resistance.

_Are they...hanging out?_ _Did the world go mad since I left the ship this morning?_

Goto wordlessly pointed to a corner of the town square where there was a bench, plants, and a respite from the foot traffic crowded all around them. Immediately, Kelly steered Jack and herself towards it, and the two groups met up. Garrus turned to face the passing crowd, folding his arms and adopting his finest Stern C-Sec Officer posture to afford them all some privacy. With his battle-scarred armor and scarred visage, it was highly effective and passerby gave them wide berth.

Samara nodded in greeting to the two newcomers, her eyes pausing as they flowed over Jack for a moment, taking in her artwork and challenging attire. Adopting a cross-legged seat on a ledge between two potted plants, the Justicar's face slipped into relaxation and her eyes focused on the far distance.

Jack raised her eyebrow at the asari, then caught Shepard's eye while pointing at her subtly with her thumb, making a _what the fuck_ look. Shepard shrugged slightly in return, so Jack rolled her eyes and sat down on the bench next to Samara, leaning far back and propping her elbows on the back. Without thought, she assumed her default posture, which was to look bored and sullen. Knowing she was, for the first time ever, likely not the most powerful biotic in the group was not a feeling she was enjoying.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, when Samara unfolded herself like a long-limbed spider, to slide from her perch to sit beside her. The asari matriarch's luminescent eyes serenely peering at her. Even her skin seemed lit from within, with a natural power that was part of her very cells.

"Hello, child. Will you speak with me a moment?"

"Uh." Jack glanced over at Shepard again, who was standing off to the side, in a defensive cross-armed posture. Kasumi and Kelly appeared to be working him over regarding a topic that he was skeptical about. "Sure? Sure. I guess."_ Smooth._

The asari's brilliant eyes searched hers, as if looking for something she would recognize. "You are humming with biotic energy, I can _feel_ it, much like standing close to a fire warms the skin. More flows from you than I would have ever thought possible from a non-asari," she stated quietly.

There was no inflection in the words; no insult nor praise. Simply a statement of fact in her voice, and nothing but bare appraisal in her face.

The criminal didn't know exactly how to have this conversation. She also didn't know how to refuse her. The Justicar's eyes were like bottomless oceans that were as eternal as the gravity that bound the galaxy together, the river of time that flowed around them, and the light that passed between the stars.

Eyes that had passed judgement on thousands, but chose to not do so now.

Jack suddenly was aware she had stopped breathing, and after inhaling deeply, the words tumbled out before she could stop herself.

"I guess, yeah. I mean, that was the point."

Jack shook her head irritably. "Fuck, I'm not making sense. I don't understand how it all worked, I just know what they wanted to do. Build a super-biotic outta me. I guess they thought the way to unlock, I dunno, the pathways or whatever...it came down to torturing a fuckin' little kid. So they did...lots of things."

She slid a small distance further away from the asari, folding her arms over herself defensively, turning her face away and lowering her voice.

"People that did it, most of 'em are dead now. Made fuckin' sure of _that_. They deserved it. I was made for a purpose, and that was to _fuckin' kill stuff_. And when you're only good at one thing, then you _do that_. But not for _them_, for who _I_ choose. Once I got away, I did it for myself. Whatever I had to do to live. Did some shit I..."

Her voice trailed off, and she was silent. Samara made no move to fill the void; she simply sat patiently and waited. Finally, Jack flared her nostrils as she drew in a deep breath and continued.

"Killing stuff made me feel better. One more thing in this shithole galaxy that can't kill me back, yeah? For a while, that was good enough. Now..."

For an instant, her brown eyes flicked to Shepard, then away. She looked back to Samara, and was dismayed to see the asari had followed her glance. Samara now also looked to Shepard for a moment, before returning her gaze to the tattooed woman.

Samara's eyes now softened, as if reflecting on the convict's words again, rolling them around in her mind, and revealing the truth between them. Her gaze then flitted up and down Jack's body for a moment, taking in the complex maze of ink and crude, irregular scars that mapped the surface of her skin.

"It would appear you have survived great trials in your brief life. Excuse me, I have pried too much, and too soon, and I apologize for that. Perhaps we may speak privately in the future, though, that would please me."

Gracefully, Samara rose and resumed her perch, folding her legs under herself easily. Again her face relaxed, but unlike before, her eyes turned to glowing white, and her hands conjured a tiny biotic singularity before her, where it crackled and danced with energy.

After a moment, Jack realized she was staring at the Justicar and looked away, leaning back and feigning boredom again. Staring at the wall, she frowned and thought back to what she had just said. Already it seemed a fuzzy memory, like she'd not even really listened to herself. With a huff of annoyance, her attention returned to the others, who were in the middle of a mild argument she had missed the beginning of.

"No, don't be silly, Commander, you've not had a single moment off the ship that wasn't mission related. You should stay and have a little fun!" Kasumi was chiding Shepard with her teasing smile and wagging a finger at him. Kelly draped her arm over Kasumi's shoulder, turned to the stern-looking N7 commando, and nodded in agreement. "You've forced R&R on your people for a good reason, sir! You should take some for yourself. You can come with us!" Kelly pointed at Jack, who took a step backwards and held up her hands in a no no no gesture that Kelly ignored. "We're going out dancing! C'mon, nobody will recognize you in there, darkness, loud music, flashing lights..."

Shepard gestured at himself. "You _are_ aware I'm wearing full alliance heavy armor here."

Kelly shook her head. "Sir, we are surrounded by stores, many of them for other-race tourists. You can get a shirt and jeans and you're good to go! You can return your armor with the others in the shuttle, when Samara heads up to get settled. Or leave it in my hotel room."

Everyone looked at her oddly.

"I mean...while we're out dancing! I got a room to crash in later, ok? Oh shut up."

Kasumi and Garrus chuckled and elbowed each other, while Shepard grinned and shook his head at her inadvertent innuendo.

Kasumi jabbed a finger into Shepard's chestplate playfully. "She has a point, you know. The media and people that hound you - you do realize it's largely recognition of _this_ armor you've made famous. You've been gone for two years, but there have been blockbuster vids made about your glorious battle with Saren on the Citadel. Magazine covers. Breathless documentaries about your dazzling heroics."

"Luckily I dropped out of society and didn't get a cut of the profits," Garrus muttered.

"There's a shot of you, Ash, Liara, and Garrus here standing on a pile of Citadel rubble, dust in the air..."

Kasumi suddenly looked far off into the distance, her hand reaching out to gently sweep through the air. "...the rising sun shooting _beams of golden light_ through the dust. You're backlit dramatically, broken helmet tucked under your arm. Garrus had just pulled you to your feet and they were all hugging you, because _dammit_ the good guys _won_ and you had improbably survived...pushing a piece of the wall off of yourself with a heave of powerful arms, after everyone had feared you'd perished..."

Garrus scratched the back of his fringe and shrugged uncomfortably. He had seen _that_ photo some media guy had snapped only about twelve million times.

Kasumi wrapped both arms around herself, closed her eyes, and smiled blissfully. "The gorgeous Ashley and Liara both threw their arms around you, generous bosoms crushed against a hard, armored chest..."

Shepard rolled his eyes. "Kasumi, they were wearing armor too. There was no bosom-crushing."

"Oh, you're no fun. I'm taking some creative license here. Anyway, they're recognizing the man in uniform. People wear homemade replicas of this black N7 armor at costume parties, for God's sake. It's iconic! I bet if you took a page from my book and wore a hoodie or something, you'd be invisible - and even in just a shirt, I bet 99% of non-humans would never know who you were. 'All aliens looking alike' and all that. Seriously, other than Liara, who you know personally, can you pick out one asari from another, at a glance, if they were all dressed the same? No offense, Miss Justicar, ma'am."

Samara may as well have been a statue.

The thief's painted bottom lip pouted slightly. "Alrighty then. Nice chatting."

Jack folded her arms in annoyance. "Ok, let's just cut the bullshit here. Kelly's going to dance her ass off like a dirty rave freak, and you and me, Shepard, we're gonna do shots and watch. After you get some boring, lame clothes to match your personality."

Obviously quite agreeable with Shepard and Jack watching said ass shake vigorously, Kelly, still with one arm draped over Kasumi, wiggled her hips and grinned widely. "Yeah! I mean, no! You've very interesting, sir! Hardly lame at all."

Shepard took a deep breath and sighed, hands on hips. "Ok, I guess that all sounds fairly harmless, and if I'm with Jack, I can likely head off most trouble with local law enforcement..." Jack shrugged, not refuting this. "Garrus, you with us?"

"Oh, nah." The turian, still facing away to the crowd, looked back at him over his shoulder and pointed at his bandaged head. "Still get headaches...drinking and loud music...well, Dr. Chakwas would melt my face with her scolding, and the _finger-pointing_, and the _guilt trips, _and that _look_ she does. Were you around when she lit into Joker over skipping his meds for one single day?" He shivered at the memory. "Ask me again in a week or two and I'm your guy. I'd totally show Kelly how to get it on. Uh, that is, on the dance floor."

Jack smirked. "Right on the floor? You nasty turian."

Kelly looked at him appraisingly, her green eyes bright. "At least buy me dinner first, Garrus! Then we can talk."

"No, no, _dancing_, I mean! Dancing! With the...music...and...you know what? Nevermind." He turned back to the crowd and rubbed his forehead.

Shepard put one fist to his mouth to cover his laugh. "Riiight. Kasumi?"

The infiltrator shrugged and one side of her lips curled up a bit, her eyes shadowed by her hood, as usual. "Sorry, sir, I'm a moonlight walk on the beach kind of girl. Or a quiet night in with some classical music, not too loud. Glass of wine, expensive cheese, fireplace, bearskin rug...a shirtless guy whips me up a nice plate of angel-hair pasta...maybe play around with some ice cubes..."

Shepard held up one hand, palm out. "Ooooh kaaay...right, no clubbing, got it." He looked at the meditating Justicar. "Samara...?" The biotic sphere dissipated and she stood up smoothly. "If you don't mind, Garrus and Kasumi will escort you to the Normandy and you may pick quarters to your liking."

The asair bowed slightly. "Of course, Shepard. I will trust those you choose to trust yourself." Shepard bowed slightly in return, and then he turned to Jack.

"All right, let's go have a little fun. But we're taking it easy, ok?"

* * *

Shepard slapped down his fifth empty shot glass and beside him, Jack did the same, followed by both making a hiss of appreciation for the pleasurable burning sensation. Jack rotated around and leaned back, both elbows on the bar top behind her, in order to watch the dance floor. After declaring Afterlife to be "for dicks," she had insisted they come to this place, which was more crowded, darker, louder, and cheaper. Beside them were two empty cocktail glasses, in which remained only half-melted ice cubes, a few millimeters of blue liquid, a wet umbrella, and a trace of lipstick on the rim.

The owner of said cocktail glasses was a laughing redhead, currently grinding against various people of all races and genders out on the dance floor, her previously pristine white blouse now partially translucent from sweat, and unbuttoned far enough to reveal the top of her bra. Her long, pale legs pumped and hopped to the music under her black micro-skirt. Jack shook her head in wonder, silently comparing her to the Yeoman Chambers who was polite and cheerful on the Normandy, always trying to fucking hug everyone when they got off the shuttles after combat missions.

Now here she was, covered in sweat and humping half the room, and the crowd loved her for it. Jack shook her head. "Never woulda guessed!" she shouted in Shepard's direction. Despite the sound baffles over the bar, the music from the dance floor still required raised voices to be heard.

Shepard was sitting in his brand new jeans, brand new t-shirt of an asari sports team he'd never heard of, and brand new shoes, spinning his empty shot glass in idle circles and wondering if he still had the capacity to get drunk. He supposed his Cerberus rebuild had included some defenses against toxins. Never did corner Miranda and grill her for all the details. Did he even want to know how human he wasn't? "What's that?" He leaned closer.

"The shrink. Get her off the ship, put some drink in her, and she goes wild. You'd not believe the day I've had. We went _shopping_. She shops like a _motherfucker_, by the way. And Joker's got nothing on her when it comes to being a horny little bitch."

* * *

An asari in light combat armor, looking for all purposes to be a private security worker, perhaps off hours, sat only three stools down from them, unhurriedly tapping at her omni-tool.

**_##primary target detected, followed, in establishment. unarmored, two female companions, all seem unarmed. companion #1 unidentified but appears civilian. companion#2 matches description of listed possible associate list "Jack", no last name known._**

**_**Jack present with Shepard, confirm?_**

**_##confirmed, distinctive appearance_**

**_**do not engage, follow Shepard if possible, do not engage_**

* * *

"Do I really need to hear this about my bridge crew?" Shepard had to smirk, though, and for some reason, he was not entirely shocked. "She's...an outgoing person even under normal conditions."

Chicken wings. Shepard felt his stomach gurgle as it reminded him that chicken wings were _really good_, and he'd not eaten in several hours. "Mordin, Miranda, Jacob, Garrus...all had suggestions for upgrades to the ship. We had some meetings, and they survived peer examination. Bet you didn't notice on the shuttle out, but the _Normandy_ is crawling with contractors right now. Miranda is likely in a tizzy over security clearances." Jack's face twisted slightly into a sneer at the mention of his XO.

"Is a hot tub one of the upgrades? Never been in one but they look awesome in the vids."

"Sorry, nope." His omni-tool buzzed. He tapped his bracelet-like computer and the familiar orange hologram enveloped his forearm. Text message from...Ashley? After a quick sideways glance at Jack, who was nodding her head to the music while also making a threatening face at a tourist human guy who was about to speak to her, he tapped the translucent _read_ command.

_Subject: Hey there._

_Shepard-_

_I'm sorry for what I said back on Horizon. When we lost you two years ago, it tore me up pretty bad. I prayed for you every day. I read a lot of Tennyson, thinking about you, just like I did when my dad passed. Threw myself into my work, it was better then having time to think. Tried to do you proud, be a better soldier than ever. Got a promotion, did a lot of combat and leadership certs, even passed the N1 course recently, was thinking of you the whole time, helped me to be pissed at the unfair universe...that got me through, don't mind saying it was the hardest thing I've ever done. Yeah, harder than fighting geth and Reapers. At least we still got some sleep while doing that._

_And then suddenly, you were back. I didn't know how to process that, not sure if I figured that out yet. But I'm not who I was back then, and maybe neither are you. I don't know. Part of me can't believe it's really you._

_I wouldn't have expected you to work for Cerberus, but I know why they sent you to Horizon, because if anyone can stop the Collectors, you can. Wish like hell the teams were different so we could do it together._

_Just stay alive out there...Skipper. I don't know what the future holds, but we can't lose you a second time._

_-Ash_

_Death closes all: but something ere the end_

_Some work of noble note, may yet be done,_

_Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods._

"What?" Jack had just said something to him as he finished reading.

Still leaning back against the bar, she smirked. "Nothing." She nodded at his omni-tool. "We gotta go kill something?"

He shook his head, negative. Jack faked a yawn sarcastically, "Well, fuck this then...I'm dancing." She signaled the bartender for another shot, downed it, and slid off her stool, her elbow knocking the shot glass off the bar top and down between them as she turned. Shepard's hand flashed out, neatly caught it, and set it back on the bar. He glanced up at Jack, who had not walked to the dance floor but was standing right next to him, wearing a neutral expression and watching his face. Shepard returned the look for a moment before he spoke.

"You did that on purpose."

"You can do that every time?"

He paused before answering. "Yeah."

"Could you...before?"

"Maybe. Sometimes." A pause. "Now and then like anyone."

"Now?"

"Pretty much every time." He didn't add that if he activated his _cybernetic-chemical-neural-stimulant-thing_ he barely understood, he could likely pick crossbow bolts out of the air. Jack wasn't there at the time and didn't see it.

"What else? See better? Hearing? Balance? Stronger?" Shepard nodded slightly at each item, reluctantly. "I know you're tougher and heal faster. When that krogan had you down and was pounding the fuck out of your head and arms, you should have died. Armor is nice and all, but your hands should have been dead meat filled with shattered bones. When I finally got there, yanked him off, I bet you thought I was saving your ass. Nope. I thought I was killing him out of _revenge_. You went down there for _me_, no other reason. Thought you died for it. _Fuck._"

She shook her head, and looked away.

"Then, two days later you looked fine."

Suddenly she turned, and Jack's chocolate brown eyes met his unflinchingly as she leaned in. She was close enough that he could smell the sweet caramel alcohol on her breath. The tip of one of her fingers traced the dull glow of a scar running the edge of his jawline, then touched another one at the edge of his eye socket - the one that had had been broken in said krogan encounter.

"Fucking Cerberus assholes. They didn't just bring you back, _they fucked with you_. Just like they did with me. Took a person and made something else. Didn't know you back then, but that guy...he's gone. You're not even you anymore, just like I ain't me. Or the me I woulda been."

The expression she received back from him was something new, and she didn't know what it meant. "I'm gonna go dance until I forget about this shit." Her fingers left his face and she was gone.


	16. Ordinary People

At the bar of a dance club he couldn't stand, Commander John Shepard, Hero of Humanity and First Human Spectre, sat by himself and simmered.

With Jack gone - and with her, the camaraderie of drinking - he decided to stop wasting his time and credits on alcohols he couldn't feel and didn't especially enjoy. Sipping on an iced mineral water, he found himself with nothing to occupy his thoughts other than the evening's conversation with Jack.

Setting the perspiring glass down, he crossed his arms and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the bar. Looking up, his chin on his hands, he stared at himself in the mirror behind the busy bartender, as she went about taking care of other customers.

He wasn't a man easily wounded by mere words, but the always-challenging biotic had hit him precisely where he was weak.

Doubts that had festered, unacknowledged, since the moment he had been awoken by Miranda Lawson's urgent voice.

Was this life real? His body, his thoughts, his memories. All were open to suspicion. His eyes could be recording all he saw. His body transmitting where he was. His mind transmitting his emotions. It was maddening.

It was not inconceivable that Cerberus - with years and nearly endless resources to pour into a project - had made a synthetic Commander John Shepard. Maybe he was just like Grunt. A new _thing_ grown in a machine, with memories and thoughts poured into it.

_Conditioned. Owned. A traitor to everything you used to be._

_Except you can't even be sure of what the hell that was._

Using his shattered, charred corpse as a genetic template - _and_ _what if that corpse was hidden somewhere away, still?_ - they could have used it to create _something else_.

He stared at himself in that mirror.

_That something else could be __**you**__._

If he could walk up to the Illusive Man right now, and put a gun to his head, would his mind allow his finger to pull the trigger? Would his finger disobey the order to fire that his mind tried to send to it? Was he working for Cerberus at all because he had been conditioned to find that abhorrent notion acceptable?

Breaking his thoughts, a young asari in a short, skin-tight purple dress approached him. Holding a green drink in a delicate fluted glass, she was armed with a sly smile and a lot of exposed blue skin.

Years ago, Liara had once teased him that human males were fashionable 'accessories' among young asari, as of recent. An exciting and physically compatible new race to play with. _That_ knowledge made the attention even less flattering then it may have been, under other circumstances. A scalding look and a shake of his head dismissed her, rudely. He didn't care.

_Go away. Not in the mood. Wasting your time._

Shepard read Ash's letter a second time, feeling the pain and loss that was on full display in what she had written. She was not given to eloquent words and long speeches, and he could imagine how much time she'd put into this. Possibly over multiple nights, stressing over every word.

His old friends, they'd have attended his _funeral_. He could fully imagine the insufferably elaborate mess thrown by the Alliance with great care and pageantry, milking the moment for whatever gain they sought. A chance to show off Alliance colors to the galaxy. The medals. The brotherhood.

The lies.

After he'd died, _for them_, they'd taken all he'd done and stood for, and _burned it the hell down_.

Finally looking away from the mirror, he bowed his head and for a moment, rested his head on his folded arms. Next to him was the empty shot glass he had caught and returned to the bar, dancing with the reflected colored lights of the dance floor behind him.

He reached over, touched the rim with his fingertips, and slowly spun it in place.

Watching the lights dance. Hearing music he hated in this stupid, shitty place.

The glass rotated until he saw a smudge of brick-red lipstick on the rim.

He stopped, and stared.

Jack.

She was wild, untamed, uncontrolled, so damned _alive_ that at times, she seemed ready to jump out of her own skin.

Ever since he'd awoken under the tender mercies of Miranda and Cerberus, his life had been cast adrift. Friendships damaged or severed, loyalties bent or broken, accusations and uncertainty.

Chaos.

Jack personified that, and embraced it. She had no interest at all in rules and structure, and lived like every day could be her last. It was energizing to be around her. She expected nothing from him. His reputation and accomplishments meant, as far as he could tell, nothing at all to her. He was as good as the last action she witnessed; the last sentence he uttered.

At least until Pragia. Something was different, now. She used to catch him looking at her.

Now, sometimes he caught _her_ looking at him.

Cerberus had constructed her, too. In a different way. Steal a child, tear it apart in body and mind, rebuild it to suit what you need.

Pain? Suffering? Permanent damage? Unimportant things.

Power is important. Cerberus. Black and white and gold. Absolute conviction and wealth. Power. Supremacy.

Perhaps when they had learned all they could from her, they would discard her broken body. Apply the lessons to another child taken from her parents. Tear the child apart.

_Was she even the first Subject Zero?_

Perhaps they both were flawed products of flawed programs. Self-doubt could not be part of the intentional design. A mistake of construction.

_No, that wasn't true._

He remembered chasing Saren all over the galaxy, wracked at times by crippling stress and a lack of resolve. Liara, once, had literally helped him from the floor, after his shoulders had hit the lockers, and he'd slid to the floor.

Despondent. Defeated. Not by Saren, or the geth, but by humans. The Alliance.

If that memory was even real, of course.

_Jesus. Stop it. I'll drive myself insane by chasing every thought into circles._

Jack was a broken product. The product was never meant to be free, or self-guiding, or making decisions. It was compromised. It was loose.

And it was angry.

* * *

_This is the first fucking time I've ever __**tried**__ to lose control, and I can't even do it._

Jack twisted and arched on the dance floor, moving close to the subwoofers so she could feel the beat of the music deeply in her bones. In a shadowed corner, only illuminated by occasional strobes of color, she closed her eyes and tried to surrender to the moment - without quite getting there. Her mind was churning, instead, over what she had said to Shepard only minutes before.

The pit of her stomach twisted into a knot of discomfort, already hot from the scotch shots she had downed. Shepard went way beyond reasonable effort to treat her like a normal person, not like a freak or a wild animal. Not even when she'd tried to provoke him into doing so. He'd been straight with her, and he'd gone out of his way to help her with Pragia, and had taken a really good ass-kicking for his trouble.

_So what did I do? Hit him with a personal attack about his own humanity. Not cool. Why do I give a shit? I never give a shit about stuff like that. Fuck feelings. He's using me to kill for him, he'll use anyone to win, it's all about the mission._

_Liar. Pussy. Dodging the truth again by trying to get too mad to think._

Unwelcomed, the funeral footage replayed in her mind. The way people had stood; the looks on their faces. Crushed. Empty. Without a hope.

The way he'd looked and sounded, talking to the crew while standing over Grunt's body.

The times he'd thrown himself at the bullets of the enemy on Pragia, leading with his own body first, on a mission for _her_. Herself and Thane had been forced to scramble to keep up with him, his aggression was so reckless and _furious _once the bullets started flying.

Late in the last duty cycle, when the lights were low, Jack had sat around after the poker games to hang out comfortably in Zaeed's room as she was often wont to do. Watching the orange glow of his cigar and listening to his gravelly voice that she secretly enjoyed so much, he'd described how he had pursued Shepard all over Omega's underground, trying to keep up with the running firefight. The N7 commando had been tireless, relentless in his shock trooper tactics; diving in, disrupting the enemy, blasting them at close range before they could recover.

Jack had teased the merc about being old, of course, but on Pragia she'd seen firsthand what he'd meant.

Shepard would make it a contest - no matter how hard you went, he'd find another gear and push it higher, faster, _more_. _Make the enemy deal with it._ _Don't ever let them decide the battle, seize it for yourself. Take what you want. _His pep-talks on the shuttle rides down to the missions always got people fired up.

_He's not a user, he's a leader. I could have spat in his face and it would have been a kindness compared to what I said. That look on his face when I pretty much told him he was a fake? I never saw that before._

_I succeeded, I finally got him._

_Fuck._

_For what? Nice little victory, bitch._

Just like with Garrus, she felt a half-assed apology coming on. She hated that.

Later.

The music is right here, right now.

* * *

The music, the mood, and sitting at the bar were all getting tiresome. As much as he and Garrus talked about hanging out at bars, it wasn't describing a place like this, but a quiet pub-type place where you could talk about the nice things you wanted, and the things you'd lost that you wished you still had.

His tolerance for bass-driven dance music was reaching an end. Plus, he was starving. He waved the bartender over, paid for his and Jack's drinks, and stood up and stretched.

_Must be a little restaurant, or stand, or...something nearby. A bowl of noodles would be nice. _

Maybe with shellfish of some sort, as the general rule of thumb for asari worlds was - when it came to ignorant humans doing the ordering - stick to things that swim and it'll be pretty good. He turned and looked at the dance floor, seeing Kelly, her hair darkened at the edges and plastered to her face with sweat, pretty much rubbing herself all over a likewise grinding and writhing asari in a tight yellow dress. As a veteran of Alliance shore-leaves that involved, first, boisterous young marines, and later, tightly-wound special forces trainees, he knew a person who did shore leave _right_ when he saw it.

_Huh. Good for you, Kelly._

He scanned the floor, and didn't see the real target of his interest at first. There was a tingle of alarm for a moment, and, _oh_, in the far corner, where it was darker, there...

She.

Was.

The room closed down, like a tunnel around his sight, and he could see nobody else. Jack was swiveling, uncoiling, arching, and flowing to an energetic beat. Eyes closed, mouth open and almost panting with the sustained exertion, she was clearly in her own world. Jack was completely lacking in inhibition in her movements, dancing like she the only person here, the music just for her alone. The violent biotic's body language radiated with _fuck anyone who doesn't like it_.

The beautiful, naturally graceful asari around her were secondary players, they didn't shine like her right now. She was undisciplined enough in her powers that - in this time of abandon - biotic shimmers escaped her to wash over the surface of her body and clothes before dissipating. Completely lost, she blended her smooth and fluid motions into moments of aggressive, energetic motions that almost looked martial. She had attitude and energy pouring out of her that stood out, even in this noisy, crowded place. The asari and humans in her vicinity were feeding from her energy; were dancing harder, faster, clapping and laughing, having fun.

Jack didn't even know.

The sweat on her body made the black ink on her skin glisten under the hot, flashing lights, and for a moment, she extended her long, thin arms over her thrown-back head and swiveled her narrow waist. The ridges of her abdomen, under her just-visible ribs, rippled with the movements. She was clearly defined not from excessive musculature, but rather from a lifetime of hardship - burning herself down to tendons and bone with the self-abuse of heavy biotic combat, inconsistent diet, and a life on the run.

Above her shockingly low-slung pants, her exposed hipbones flared widely, swaying seductively to the side, back, side. A vision entered his mind of how he would place his hands, just _there_, gripping her as he pulled her back repeatedly on...

The song faded, as it transitioned into another one with a different beat, and Shepard blinked. Licking his dry lips, he glanced around in a moment of self-consciousness, wondering if he had been caught openly staring. Standing up, he became aware he had become physically aroused, and turned back to face the bar to hide the evidence.

_Right, that was weird._ _And sudden. Time for a break from this place._

He activated his omni-tool and sent Kelly and Jack both a quick, one-line message, not having much interest in barging out onto the floor and shouting to be heard.

_[Stepping outside for a bite, won't go far.]_

* * *

_##primary appears to be leaving, alone_

_**follow carefully, stand by to assist once action is initiated. unit 3 intercept target and steer him to the apartment, I will be in lift waiting. Two other units standing by in apartment 1024. __**no mistakes**__, target is extremely dangerous_

_##confirm_

_++unit 3 confirms_

_apartment units confirm_

The lightly armored asari pushed away from the bar and followed the human male outside. Using her fingertips, she lightly touched the blade sheathed on her arm, then the handgun nestled under her arm.

_You're about to land me a lot of money, Commander Shepard._

* * *

There was an eatery just across the street from the bar, naturally, but it was purely asari. Standing next to the entrance, he peered at the digital menu - after toggling it to human Citadel trade language standard, for the tourists - looking for something he recognized. His relationship with Liara had occurred entirely away from asari worlds and hadn't really prepared him for this particular travel adventure.

"Hey...there is a small human restaurant just above us, next level. This place is a little, shall we say, challenging. Honestly, even I didn't care for it greatly. I had dinner here, with some work friends, once. The chef was showing off a little _too_ hard, you know what I mean?"

He turned, and an attractive asari in a long sleeved - but very short and low-cut - crimson dress stood next to him. She was clutching a small purse in one hand, and in the other, red heels dangled at her side casually. Despite himself, his eyes flashed down for an instant at her toned legs and dainty bare feet. She smiled at him, her eyes and teeth bright with the light from the restaurant sign. Delicate white designs adorned her cobalt skin, highlighting the area around her eyes. She was, in all honesty, stunning.

He offered a warm smile. "Hi, thanks very much for the advice." He gestured to her strappy heels dangling from her fingers. "All danced out for the night?"

"Oh, yes, I'm quite sore honestly! At least the short walk home will clear my head, a bit. Nice to have my place really close by."

He didn't miss the not-very-subtle invitation.

"What's this little restaurant above us like?"

Her face twitched a bit, her smile slightly more forced. "Oh...noodles of some sort. Puh-_ho_? Must be good, they're pretty busy. I keep meaning to try it. Come on, I'll show you where it is."

Turning, she waited for him to follow, then strolled along a half-step ahead of him.

"Puh...oh, you mean _pho_. The 'p' is soft. Actually, even that's not right, it's pronounced 'fah' if you're going to say it _really_ properly. Don't worry, I used to call it '_fow'_ also, until someone corrected me. It's not Earth common, but an asian thing." The asari looked blank. "Regional human sub-type, I guess you'd call it. Uh, I don't even know if asari have a similar thing."

_Akward._

She laughed easily, though, back to looking relaxed. "Oh, I see. Honestly, once humans get beyond 'light ones' and 'brown ones' it's all far too subtle for me." She turned, and with a gesture with her purse-hand to follow, started walking down the wide hall. "I was born here, and I've never left as of yet. Guess I'm far from an expert, I don't deal with humans much at my job. I'd like to travel more in the future, though. Hmm, what I said earlier wasn't...insensitive, was it?"

"No, no, that's ok, Garr...a turian I know used to say the same thing. It would be a touchy subject a few hundred years ago, though."

"I suppose it gets easier the longer you're around the other race in question. Can you tell asari apart yet?" she grinned over her shoulder, hips swaying as she strolled. The sides of her dress were cut out to show the blue skin of her waist.

"Uh, yeah, I'm not bad...I'm close...friends with an asari. That helped."

"Oh? Got to study her in close detail, hmm?" She flashed a teasing, suggestive grin over her shoulder as they walked around a corner, into a smaller hall with two lifts to the other levels.

"Hmm...yes. It was a couple of years ago though." _For her. Not for me._ He pushed that thought aside, back into the compartment he reserved for that particular undealt with pain.

"Too bad for her." Her fingers brushed the button to bring the lift down. They were alone, as it was quite late, and it was a work-night in whatever calendar it was that asari used.

"Sounds like you could stand to brush up on the subject," she purred, in a voice full of promise. Her sideways glance at him as she stepped into the just-opening doors was lingering and left no doubts as to her meaning. Suppressing a grin, Shepard followed her inside, sneaking a quick glance down the alleyway as he stepped. She really was very good at this.

Not surprisingly, there was another asari already inside, wearing a slightly rumpled-looking security uniform, and armed with a stun-gun of some sort in a belt holster. She was casually holding a disposable cup, containing an unknown beverage that she sipped. Nodding as Shepard stepped in, she greeted him in a weary voice. "Hey."

"Hi there." Shepard comfortably stood in between them, his hands behind his back, feet apart as if at the old parade rest. As the doors started to close, he remarked in a clear, relaxed voice, "So, we starting this now? Confined space, advantage you. Elevator hides the noise. Seems logica..."

The asari in the uniform abruptly tossed her drink at his face, and in an instant Shepard was squaring off in a tiny room against two combatants that he knew could have nearly a thousand years of combat training between them.


	17. Five Minutes Alone

"A solid effort, Lieutenant Shepard. No lack of courage there."

On his knees, with one hand in the sand, Shepard spit out a mouthful of bloody saliva, shaking his head to clear it. His other arm was cradled protectively against his stomach, the broken and throbbing wrist pressed against what he suspected was a broken rib. At the top of his field of view were the boots of fifty-three year old Operations Chief Darnell Sharpes, who placed his hands behind his back and paced as he spoke to his assembled small audience.

Not looking at them as he strolled back and forth, Shapes spoke of respect about how far, as soldiers, they had already come. About the courage and strength of oneself it took to not only be a marine, but an _exceptional_ marine of the quality to be invited to the _N_ program. One in thousands were invited. Having passed N1 - he underlined with severity in his voice - was an accomplishment that one out of tens of thousands would achieve.

They were _successes_, all of them, he stated. There was no shame from not passing this course. They were already _fine_ soldiers. No shame at all.

By about this time, the students started to get the notion that things were about to get _serious_. Drill sergeants did _not_ habitually praise the students, or speak of how well they had done to arrive at the current moment.

Contrary to the notion of stereotypical drill instructors, Sharpes did not ever shout. He was, in fact, unnervingly quiet, in both body language and speech. Later, they would know this was related with the fact that the man's entire body was a living weapon. Operations Chief Darnell Sharpes was _the_ senior hand-to-hand combatant instructor in the entire Systems Alliance Navy. His accomplishments - in rings, octagons, and on mats - were legendary, and his face was as much scar tissue as it was skin.

Operations Chief Darnell Sharpes did not need to shout.

* * *

Six special forces troops stood in a semicircle - men of various ages and ranks, all accomplished combat veterans - on a deserted obstacle course, in the morning heat of the rising sun of an undisclosed desert world. Today, they were students. None of them snickered, laughed, or even smiled, despite what was happening before them.

For they knew this - they were next.

What was before them was the sight of the much-hyped Hero of Elysium, John Shepard, being beaten into a bloody paste.

Behind the students, standing at casual attention, were three combat medics in front of an evacuation shuttle. They had been there, waiting for the squad, when they had arrived via troop transport to meet the Operations Chief for the first time. It had not been a heartening sight to start the day.

Putting one foot under him, then the other, Lt. John Shepard rose painfully to his feet. He fixed his remaining good eye on Sharpes, the first having closed ten minutes ago, early in his "lesson." The fact was, there had been no teaching as of yet, on this first day of advanced hand-to-hand. The details of this training were a closely-guarded secret, and those taking part were expected to adhere to the non-disclosure agreements for the duration of their careers of service.

Shepard was starting to believe, however, that this was the point of today's _test_ - not a lesson at all - to see how many times a student would accept the wave forward that Sharpes would offer, and willingly step into the range of his hands and feet.

Where pain and humiliation awaited.

It was day one of a four-week course.

Through the blurred vision of his relatively good eye, as he felt the blood drip from his face to land in the sand at his feet, he saw Sharpes - expressionless - make a small motion with his left hand. A small wave, beckoning him forward.

Shepard reminded himself that between him and his _N3_ qualification lay this incredibly painful obstacle named Darnell Sharpes. Perhaps it would be helpful to think of his body as an unimportant vessel, a _thing_ that could be broken and repaired.

Not his true self.

Not important.

Sparing a glance at his fellow trainees, he immediately regretted it - they were tight-faced and pale, looking like they were watching an execution. Perhaps they were, in a sense. This was a test to see how easy it was to kill your determination; your mental endurance; your fortitude.

Drawing in a steadying breath - and wincing as pain stabbed at his ribcage - he cradled his arm against his stomach, and gathered his will.

He stepped forward.

* * *

"Nice one, Commander! Almost got me that time."

Six years later, sparring and losing wasn't nearly so bad. Not at all.

"Mmmpfh huuu," Shepard managed to reply, his face trapped against the back of Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams' bare knees. Her tanned, smooth skin smelled like floral body-wash and sunshine and _he really should not even be thinking about this._

Around the two of them, the several assembled Normandy SR-1 crew members laughed and clapped. Lying on her back, perpendicular to him, his arm extended between her legs, forearm trapped against her stomach and rotated to a nearly painful angle by both of her hands clamped on his wrist, she neatly plucked the rubber practice knife from his numbed hand and held it up to the applause of the crew.

"Ok, let this be a lesson to you ladies, especially. Generally speaking, you don't want to get into a striking contest with a big dumb meathead like our assailant here..." she said, slapping Shepard's arm as she talked, again to laughter, "...because he has about thirty kilos on you, extended reach, _and_ the undeniable power advantage. So you don't want to play that game."

"What you _can_ do is trap a limb and, before he knows what's happening - because guys are generally assholes and will think you're a pushover - you can snap a joint in the wrong direction and ruin his whole week."

In her Alliance standard gray shorts, she briefly wiggled lower, her tanned and muscular legs pressing harder against Shepard's face. His wrist firmly captured, she rotated his trapped arm so that the back of his hand was trapped against her sternum.

"See here? If I arch my back right now, _and_ press down with my thighs, his elbow bends the nasty, crunchy way. Strongest muscles in my body vs. his mechanical disadvantage, here. Keep in mind, if this was a turian arm, you'd want the angle to be more like...this...and batarian, more like _this_ right here. Asari is about human standard, so don't worry about it too much. If it's a krogan, heh, well, good luck with that. Why the fuck are you wrestling with a krogan? Just stop."

Ash rotated the arm back to its original angle. "Ok, let's make a wish..."

"Mppfhth!" Laughter.

"But he doesn't want me to do that. So we'll reset." She let go of his arm, split her legs and lifted them, and they both rolled smoothly to their feet. Shepard bowed slightly to the amused crowd, soaking in the sarcastic applause and the friendly jeers.

Ashley clapped to get attention. "Ok folks, Commander Shepard was a good sport, but remember he was _playing_ the dumb-guy attacker...if you're ever _actually_ attacked by a knife-wielding Star of Terra-wearing N7 commando, then a) you are dead meat, and b) you likely deserve it. Thank you, sir. Marcus! You're up!"

Shepard saluted good-naturedly and smirked to the laughs and exaggerated applause of his crew as he threaded his way through them on his way out. Ashley was right, stuff like this was good for morale. Or, at least, the morale of most. Liara was leaning against the wall just next to the elevator, and he had to reach around her to press the sensor as he smiled warmly. "Hi. Excuse me, miss."

"Have fun in class today? Are you receiving a merit badge in 'gunnery chief's shapely legs wrapped around your head?'" The asari's words were accusatory, but her smile was teasing.

"If you like, perhaps I could arrange for Kaidan to lead a class of full-contact shirtless biotic sparring with you."

Liara turned slightly purple as she blinked in surprise. "Oh...I...well _that_ is nothing new. Biotic practice is _always_ shirtless. You were unaware?" The young asari's deep blue eyes were wide with sincerity.

Shepard laughed as the elevator doors opened. Liara had come quite a way since her first day on the Normandy. She could now make adult-themed jokes without stuttering all over herself - now she merely blushed rather adorably. The two of them had been dancing around sexual tension for some time, and it had caused friction between the asari scientist and Ashley, who seemed to have designs on Shepard, also.

Alliance regulations forbade such superior-subordinate relationships, of course, and in truth, Liara knew that the attraction was - nearly - completely one-sided. As the elevator doors closed and he pressed a button, Shepard took their slowly escalating flirting to a new level, leaning over and putting his lips close to the soft folds where a human ear would normally be.

"Relax, we're just friends."

"I know th..." Her words seized in her throat as his lips gently pressed to said ear-folds as he placed a seemingly innocent, friendly kiss there. Liara gasped and shivered, wobbling as her knees weakened. Shepard smirked in satisfaction as he straightened, hands behind his back in comfortable parade rest - even as she took a half-step backwards and leaned against the elevator wall to steady herself.

_Extranet research about asari erogenous zones was paying off nicely._

He stood casually next to her - refusing to move his eyes away from the doors in front of him - as the elevator moved to the the command deck. He was acutely aware of her quickened breathing, and her bright eyes watching him as she clearly wrestled with deciding if what he'd just done was intentional or not.

The doors swished open.

"Well, this is my floor. I'll see you around."

For an instant, he glanced at her - just in time to catch her moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, her face decidedly purple- and offered a flash of a bright, innocent smile, then he was out the door.

* * *

"An excellent first effort, Commander Shepard, you surpassed my expectation."

Almost three years, and quite literally a lifetime later, Shepard wiped his fingers across his mouth and glanced at the smear of blood that was left on them. The drell assassin Thane Krios had just hit him with a flurry of nine lightning-fast strikes from fists, elbows, and knees, and he had managed to deflect or outright block seven of them. He'd taken a jarring fist to the ribs, and a glancing tip of the elbow to the teeth.

The N7 commando took some comfort from having personally witnessed Thane take out an entire squad of Nasanna's _Eclipse_ mercs with his bare hands, before catching a handgun that had fallen from the lifeless hands of said bodyguards, burying it into her stomach, and calmly executing her...all in one continuous blur of motion that didn't show a hint of actual exertion.

An instant later, he was laying her down on the control panel behind her so she could die comfortably, cradling her as gently as a newborn.

The drell assassin stepped back and stood at rest, while clad in a sleeveless, skin-tight black shirt, of a shiny, hexagon-covered synthetic material. His head tilted to the side as he considered his human opponent, reciting his thoughts.

"Reflexes, clearly enhanced over human standard, perhaps even slightly beyond human maximum potential. Strength, same. Damage resistance, especially skeletal, far beyond human. Moderately enhanced healing, toxin resistance, resistance to muscle fatigue..."

Several meters off to the side, leaning against one of the crates in the shuttle room, an observing Miranda Lawson looked up from her datapad and nodded in turn to each item on the drell's list. "And..." she began, before freezing into silence.

Thane looked at her with a quizzical expression.

"...actually...nevermind. Proprietary technology. Carry on." Her eyes went back to her datapad, shaking her head at herself for her near-slip.

"Take it offfff!" Perched on top of a Kodiak shuttle, where she had brought up a folding chair and an iced tea, Kasumi yelled with her hands around her mouth to enhance her volume. This despite the fact she was, at best, five meters from Shepard as the two combatants sparred directly next to the same shuttle. He turned and looked at her with a raised eyebrow, then had to laugh as she pointed at his standard gray t-shirt and made a finger-snapping motion. "Ain't got all day, beefcake!"

He smiled widely, enjoying the easy humor the crew had developed in the last few weeks. "Kasumi...pony up two thousand credits for an Alliance military charity, and you'll get your tickets to the gun show." He flexed one thick and rippled arm for effect.

"Not you! I was talking to Thane!"

Even Miranda smirked, as the room got a good laugh from that one at the captain's expense.

Beside her, with crossed arms, Garrus looked at her with some amusement and some restrained irritation, both. "Proud of your little science project?"

Turning to him, she ignored the small sarcastic dig in his choice of wording. "Of course I am. Two years of my life went into him. I did nothing else during that time. He _was_ my life. It was an enormous amount of trust placed in my hands, and the challenge, at some times, seemed insurmountable. The remains we were presented with were in shockingly bad condit..."

The look on Garrus' face stopped her from continuing.

"Hmm, yes. Unpleasantly stated. I misspoke. In all honestly, at times, I had doubts we could do it. Limitless resources are irrelevant if the end is beyond possibility. There were steps forward, steps back, complications and breakthroughs. Moving deadlines, stress, careers built and damaged..."

"You're starting to talk like a salarian."

The raven-haired woman raised an eyebrow archly, but if he could read human expressions, she was not entirely unamused. "Do you want to hear this, or not?"

"Oh, I apologize profusely. Please continue."

"At the end, when things were finally looking really positive, I was forced to wake him far ahead of schedule because of project sabotage."

The Cerberus operative turned away from him, looking back at Shepard thoughtfully, as she reviewed those fresh memories.

"No trials, no tests, no baselines or benchmarks. No rehabilitation. I directed him towards a gun and he shot his way out of the facility. Quite remarkable, honestly...not that I would tell him that. He already possesses a disregard for personal safety that borders on a mental condition..."

Garrus snorted. "Yeah, I'm aware."

Lawson rolled her eyes as Shepard peeled off his shirt and fired it up at Kasumi, who dodged it, then whistled, only to be struck in the face by Thane's shirt. "Your total is now four thousand credits for charity. Your generosity is appreciated," he intoned seriously.

There was laughter, and a smattering of applause.

Garrus' mandibles twitched as he took in the antics. "I'm torn between being grateful that you found a way to bring him back; to hating you for treating him like a device you assembled; to questioning your arrogance for assuming that such a thing should even be done _at all_, to anyone, ever."

Miranda pondered that for a moment, then nodded very slightly. "Perhaps a good academic discussion..._after_ we save every advanced organic species we've ever heard of. Unless, of course, you think we should just _not bother_ because it makes you uncomfortable."

Garrus found himself lacking a suitable comeback, and heaved a quiet sigh.

Thane abandoned his relaxed pose, his fine green scales rippling over his lean chest and shoulders as he set himself. "Again, Shepard."

Miranda watched the N7 commando closely through the flurry of punches, kicks, elbows, and knees that they fired at each other in rapid succession, both rarely able land a solid hit - incredible talent vs. incredible skill. Over time, Shepard did take more shots then he gave, but he seemed to appreciate the blows rather than take offence. They took breaks often, Thane unable to sustain the high effort for long periods with his diminished lung capacity.

Again and again, round after round.

Above them all, from the windows in the engineering hallway, a long figure watched impassively, her face unreadable.

* * *

With a lightening-quick motion, Shepard jerked his head away, while stepping back a half-step, causing his back to bump the elevator wall. The fluid - hot, some sort of tea, perhaps - from the cup of the asari 'guard' flew past his face and struck the 'flirty-asari-in-dress' nearly full in the face. She screeched and flinched away.

Before the cup-tossing arm could retreat back away from him, he seized her by the wrist with his left hand, deciding that the guard was the larger threat at the moment, thanks to her inadvertent distraction of the other one. Pushing off the wall, he rotated right and drove his right fist under that arm and into the face of the guard.

Her nose collapsed with a crunch, and her head was driven back to impact the metal wall behind her. Still holding the wrist firmly as she slumped, stunned, he grabbed her by the shirt with his right hand, and rotated again. Turning a one-eighty, he leveraged his strength advantage and used her as a blunt instrument to slam her into dress-asari. Still wiping her face with one hand, she never saw it coming. Crashing together, they went to the floor, stunned, the dress-asari's purse falling to _thump_ heavily on the floor. It opened as it hit the floor, sending a combat knife and a small handgun sliding across the tiles.

The elevator doors slid open, and a third asari in light armor strode in with a heavy handgun pointed safely at the floor in her double-handed grip. Her eyes widened at seeing the situation going so poorly, and the pistol came up.

_Good weapon form, but you got too close._

Shepard's left fist backhanded the weapon, hard, out of her grasp to send it bouncing off the wall. He felt one of his knuckles crush as it impacted the side of the heavy weapon, and pain shot up his arm as he did so.

_Doesn't matter. Sharpes. Body a vessel. Attack._

Instinctively, her eyes followed her gun as it bounced from the elevator wall. An opening. His right hand fisted, and he uncoiled a powerful punch that would have struck her in the left temple...but his push-off foot slipped on the spilled drink on the floor, and he stumbled, nearly falling into her.

With a flash of memory, he recognized her as the asari that had been sitting at the bar, a few seats away from himself and Jack. This was an ambush that had been planned far ahead of time.

The armored one recovered quickly from being disarmed, and met his stumbling lunge by sharply bring up her left knee. It impacted his lower face, sending a flash of white light through his brain as his lip split, and his nose bloodied. Rubber-legged for the moment, he went backwards and again his back hit the elevator wall opposite the door. Sparing a glance at her gun on the floor, she decided against it and stepped neatly forward, sinking a straight right kick into his stomach. The air expelled from his lungs, and he doubled over.

The elevator doors closed behind her. "Thought you'd be tougher than this, Shepard," she rasped in a smooth whiskey-voice. "Easy money."

Shepard dropped to one knee, wheezing loudly to draw a breath. The armored commando smirked, and - setting herself solidly - launched a second kick, this time at his exposed head.

As expected.

His face raised suddenly, and he met her eyes even as his left hand caught her ankle neatly - she had a instant of denial that a human's reflexes could possibly be that fast - before he was up and moving into her. He hooked his right heel behind her other leg, then drove her back into the elevator doors, his shoulder in the center of her breastplate, leaning in to add his weight to the momentum.

Her arms flailed, trying to keep balance even as she crashed into the doors, the flexible light armor giving enough to compress her ribcage. The air _whoofed_ out of her lungs in a sudden rush, stunning her for a moment. An instant later, he drew back just enough to whip his right elbow into her face with a short chopping motion, snapping her head to the side, purple blood spraying from her mouth to speckle the chrome doors.

Coming from behind him, unseen, a bare, blue foot snapped into the side of his head with the sound of crunching bone, driving him to his left, where he went to the floor with the force of the blow.

The dress-wearing asari screamed in sudden and unexpected pain, bending forward and clutching her right shin. Shepard's entire skeleton was reinforced with a matrix of synthetic nanotubes and filaments, increasing density and shatter-resistance. To the asari, it would have seemed like she had taken a running stride and kicked a metal lamp-post.

The sound of crunching bones had been her own.

Regardless, Shepard was slightly dazed by the blow, and as he rose he took a boot to the right cheek, snapping his head back. The asari in the guard's outfit had slowly regained her feet, one hand clutching her damaged face, purple blood squirting between her fingers as her breath sharply expelled from the force of her kick.

Even as he fell backwards, he grinned in admiration. _No lack of toughness in that one. _He even said it to himself in Sharpes' voice. He was feeling good. Taking a few punches _felt_ good. The adrenaline of combat was euphoric; the clarity of purpose of being in a good, honest fight - after the discussion with Jack that only served to underline his self-doubts - was marvelous. His heart was singing.

The gunshot exploded just in front of his face as he was rising from the floor, deafening him from the thunderclap, blinding him in one eye and searing the skin of one cheek with the muzzle flash. The 'guard' asari had picked up the handgun he'd slapped from the hand of the armored one, and had nearly executed him with a shot to the temple, point-blank. The round punched a hole through the floor of the elevator, stinging him with fragments of stone tiles.

A blindly thrown swipe of his right arm pushed the gun aside before she could fire again. His high spirits of seconds ago were boiled away by a frenzy of anger and outrage. Perhaps they'd intended to capture him to collect a bounty as a primary option. But clearly, now they were choosing to kill rather than let him get away.

Shepard surged to his feet, powered by blind, hot, flaming rage that lent him a furious strength, only further fueled by his cybernetics. As he extended upwards, his fist led the way with a ferocious uppercut that struck her directly under the chin, snapping her head back with such force that vertebrae shattered, and the blood already on her face misted into the air.

She flopped to the floor - stiff-armed, senseless, broken.

Shepard turned, his eyes full of death, and spit his own mouthful of blood out in a crimson spray of rage. A glance to his left confirmed that the armored asari was only just trying to rise, shaking her head to clear it, a thin purple stream falling from her mouth.

"You...stupid..._bitches_," he snarled, his pulse roaring in his ears. The asari in the red dress backed into the corner, limping badly, then stooped to pick up her dropped knife with a shaking hand, holding it before her towards him. Her face displayed naked fear.

"If you know who I am..." He stepped towards her as he spoke, voice hoarse with menace. "Then you know what I'm doing. Fighting the Reapers..."

Pressing herself into the corner, the beautiful asari went pale, shaking her head. "No...no, you're craz..."

"Who will kill us all! Everyone. Every race. Do you think Sovereign would have stopped at the Citadel? He said there were others. Many others. They will end all …"

"They said you were out of your mind! _Listen to yourself!_" Her face was tight, almost a rictus of panic, her eyes wide.

"Shut up! They. Will. End. Organic life. Humans, turians, salarians, asari, _all of us_. And you'd stop me from fighting them? For what? Credits? Fucking _credits?_"

She broke. Her knife drove forward at his ribcage, and he neatly parried it aside - just as Sharpes, Thane, Ashley, and others had drilled into him hundreds of times - leaving him inside her reach for an instant. With impossible quickness, he pivoted and drove a spinning backfist just behind her ear fold, driving her sideways into the wall and down to the floor.

For an instant, his mind flashed back to his lips touching another asari there; how Liara had flushed and gasped, her face coloring with the sensations it had aroused in her.

The asari in the red dress hissed out a silent scream, her face pulled tight and her mouth wide in soundless agony. Lying on her side, both hands clutched to the right side of her head, her bare legs bicycled involuntary against the tiles as her nervous system was overcome with more pain then she'd ever experienced. The knife was on the floor, dropped and forgotten.

"I'm trying to save you, as well. All of you! EVERYTHING!" With the blood hammering through his ears, he felt all the frustrations of dealing with the deliberately ignorant Council surging out of him. All the forces pulling against them as he tried to lift the galaxy onto his shoulders and carry it to safety.

_Impossible._

_Not worth trying._

_Fuck everyone._

Months of pent-up rage were shooting out of him without control. That fucking turian councilor making air-quotes while talking about "_the Reaper claim._"

_I'll kill him, _he raged wildly in his mind.

_Drive a knife into his fucking gizzard. Smash his face until his skull shatters._

The asari in the dress - after her third hissing, silent breath - found her voice and screamed in horrible pain, the high pitch of her agony snapping him back to the situation at hand.

"You're...insane..." Behind him, the armored asari gasped as she rose to one knee, one eye swollen shut, and unsteadily aimed the pistol she had regained from the floor. He turned, kicked it aside with mechanical precision, and surged into her again, riding her backwards to the floor and closing his hand over her exposed neck, his grip inhumanly strong.

The elevator lurched slightly as it started moving up.

Straddling her hips, Shepard pushed his face into hers, almost a lover's embrace, aside from the choking grip at her throat.

"_Fuck you._ You'll never see your blood money. But I'll do you a favor, you'll never see this world..." she gasped for air that would not come, her hands flapping uselessly at his wrist, "...or Thessia, burn. When they come for you, for all of us..."

Images of the Protheans dying, carbonized in infernos, screaming out helplessly, buildings and monuments tumbling to the ground, the sky turning black, the cries of children, of adults, of everyone.

_A galactic civilization, eradicated._

_Dead._

_Nearly wiped from history._

The asari was turning purple.

"If you want to fight someone...do something useful with your goddamned life and prepare to fight THEM."

The asari's eyes were turning purple at the edges of the whites, bulging out as a faint croak escaped her.

Shepard blinked. He remembered making that noise. There had barely been enough air in his suit to make a sound at all.

_No. Not strangulation. Not like this._

His grip relaxed. She sucked in a wheezing, ragged breath desperately.

_Tumbling in space, fumbling at his helmet, the hissing of air escaping from around his neck, glimpses of the Normandy burning in space as he tumbled. Impotent rage as another silent beam sliced pieces off the already-dead ship..._

_No._

_Not like this, not to anyone._

He rose up to his knees, his hands resting on his thighs, as she weakly rocked back and forth, hands over her own neck now protectively. She gasped and coughed, and sucked at the air greedily.

_Jesus Christ. What am I doing?_

_I'm ready to murder everything I see._

A fire exploded at the base of the right side of his neck, and his back arched as he roared out in pain. Turning his head, he saw the knife from the floor now embedded in his trapezius, half of the blade sunk into his flesh through his shirt.

The dress-wearing asari fell back away from him in horror, hobbling on her broken foot, as the human monster simply plucked the blade out. Blood squirted from the wound, unheeded.

It stood up.

And didn't turn around. He stared down at her armored companion, still lying between his feet. Her hands clutched at her damaged throat, wheezing in air, but alive. Eyes wet with tears of fear and pain, she shook her head at him.

_No, no, no. _Her mouth repeated the word but no sound came forth, too damaged to use a voice. The fight was gone from her; only the want for survival remained.

He turned now, and the asari in the dress went white in the face. Her blood turned to ice as her back hit the wall, sliding to the floor, her bare knees coming up to her chin.

The blood ran wet and hot down his back.

_This one, she had started this._

_With her coward's tricks. Social engineering. Being friendly. Her innocent flirtations. Sexy looks through lowered lashes. Just follow me, friend. You'll have a wonderful time. Just lower your defenses and enjoy yourself._

_Into traps so other people can do the messy part._

How many people had she lured to their deaths over the centuries?

He took another step towards the pretty asari in the dress, and she closed her eyes, her breathing reduced to panicked small gasps.

_You won't do it again, you gutless little bitch._

A drop of his own blood fell from the knife in his hand, to sprinkle on the tiles at his feet.

The one in the dress whimpered.

The armored one croaked in another gasping breath through her injured throat.

The one in the guard's uniform made no sound at all.

There was a _ding_, and the elevator doors slid open. They had moved up fourteen floors. Two asari in black, medium-weight hardsuits lay on the floor just beyond the door, lying in growing pools of violet blood.

Shepard blinked, and his posture relaxed. Suddenly, he was able to look at the one in the dress with fresh eyes. The fight was over, and she was no threat.

He'd been seconds away from opening her throat.

The knife fell from his hands, to the floor. Shepard turned his head to the opened doors, and spoke.

"Hello, Kasumi."


	18. Zero Signal

There was an audible sigh - exaggerated for effect to be heard over the harsh breathing of the two asari still in condition to be conscious - and the air shimmered before Kasumi Goto appeared. Standing between the two armored-up asari at her feet, she stepped neatly over them to avoid the growing puddle of purple. The warm M-5 Phalanx handgun in her right hand was folded and stowed at her lower back, while one hand remained resting on her hip in mild annoyance.

Atypical of her, her lips were not kinked up at the corners in playful amusement.

"_Please_ tell me that was a lucky guess, because for me, being _heard_ is a career-threatening development."

* * *

If the asari, as a species, could be counted on for something, it was being professional and efficient. Not five minutes after Shepard notified the authorities, he was sitting on the back hatch of a law enforcement skycar with two medical techs fussing over him. Medi-gel dotted his face in four places, as well as tingled on his stabbed neck muscle under a large bandage, held in place by white tape attached to his skin.

The medical tech had eyed him oddly when she had discovered the fresh injury had already partially sealed, but she said nothing. Perhaps celebrity Spectres were a little different than most.

Detective Anaya was onsite, looking like someone had urinated in her breakfast. She was curtly bossing around four other cops, who were taking notes and saving evidence images on omni-tools while doing their best to avoid her. It appeared their late-night potential multiple homicide had summoned her from bed.

The dress-wearing and armored asari were both hustled away in another skycar as attempted murder suspects, while the one in the guard's uniform was being loaded onto a wheeled stretcher under a full-body covering.

Having come down from the rush of life-threatening battle - and it was potentially worrisome how _alive_ had it made him feel - Shepard felt himself falling into a darker place. The asari had tried to kill him, no doubt at all, but there was nothing good to feel about taking the life of an attractive, thousand-year-lifespan sentient being.

The medical techs finished with the now-shirtless commando, and left him alone with the master thief. In return for waiving his Spectre immunity - sort of a dicey technicality on Illium, anyway, it not being legally a Council world - and agreeing to be interviewed, he had requested that his unnamed and black-hooded friend be excluded from the investigation and treated as a non-witness bystander.

Sitting next to him, Kasumi was doing her _very_ best to not look over his deeply muscled, surprisingly unscarred torso.

_Well, perhaps it's not entirely surprising. Rumor has it - among the specialists, that is, the Cerberus crew ain't talkin' - that he was mostly re-grown from his own bits and pieces._

She'd never thought of a _really nice way_ to ask if that was exactly true or not.

_Nope, and I certainly would not take advantage of this legal and medical situation to sit here, and steal glances over at those biceps that are nearly as big as my thighs, or the round globes of his shoulders, or those...chiseled abdominals. My goodness. Jacob is still __**the**__ hot one, but wow, competition is good._

_Whoops! Eyes up! He's looking at you._

"Pitched harmonic." He spoke quietly, as if guarding a secret.

The thief blinked. "Excuse me?"

"If you're close enough, I can hear a harmonic from your cloak. Just barely. It's outside of normal human hearing, obviously."

Kasumi turned her head and looked at him questioningly, then tilted her head in clear confusion. He sighed.

"As usual, I don't know the exact details, but Cerberus didn't leave many stones unturned...my hearing is enhanced. For the first few weeks, I thought the elevator on the Normandy was defective. Then I found out only Thane and I could hear...whatever part of it makes _that_ noise."

"What noise?"

"Exactly."

Kasumi rolled her eyes. "Okay, now you're just enjoying yourself. It's mean to tease girls half your size."

Shepard grinned and fiddled with the wrap on his left hand that partially immobilized it, as there wasn't much medi-gel could do for a displaced fracture of a synthetically reinforced bone. He'd be seeing Dr. Chakwas for _that_ later.

Shepard's omni-tool pinged with a text-message. He activated the tool, and his bandaged hand was surrounded by the familiar orange holographic.

_Jack - the fuck did you go?_

_Shepard - had some trouble, be back soon_

_Jack - did you kill someone without me?_

_Shepard - a little, yeah_

_Jack - funny. done dancing here. bored._

_Shepard - if I can't be there in 15 minutes I'll let you know_

Kasumi sat up straighter as a thought hit home. "Wait a second, Thane can hear my cloak also?"

"Maybe. I really don't know."

"I need to talk to him. Does he drink wine, do you think?" She didn't run into many drell on her jobs, at least. "So how long did you know I was following you?"

"Before we entered the club, I thought I heard you for a second. Beyond that, it was just a feeling. It made a kind of sense, anyway. Miranda's order, that I have a babysitter?"

Kasumi nodded, then shrugged with a single shoulder as she grinned. "She doesn't want her shiny toy broken. Anyway, once I walked right behind you. I looked right over the shoulder of that asari as she took orders regarding your capture or death on her omni-tool. I was going to warn you, but it felt like I had time to take care of it discreetly, and I didn't want to mess up your little vacation. _That_ didn't work out so well, sorry. You left the club a lot earlier than I expected."

Shepard squeezed the bandage on his left hand experimentally, and winced at the sensation. "Yeah, I was hungry. Was going to find something to eat and then go back. Went by myself and broke my own rule, like an idiot. Started feeling too safe, here."

The thief nodded. "Ah. Well, those two you caught me standing over...they were from an apartment upstairs that the pretty one was going to lure you to in that _awesome_ dress - and seriously, where did she get that, do you think they'd let me ask her?"

"I kind of doubt it."

"Shame. It seemed to be working, you _did_ follow her, horndog." Kasumi nudged him with her elbow.

Shepard turned his head and furrowed his brow at her. "That may have been her eventual plan, but she was just going to show me a noodle shop she suggested. She was putting on the friendly-to-the-tourist act. Let's not fill in the blanks here about what I was after."

"Geez, I take it back, Captain Indignant. Anyway, I went up to take care of those guys first, but just when I was sneaking in, they bolted out...nearly ran me over. That armored one with the omni-tool must have alerted them when you screwed up the schedule in the elevator and started beating the hell out of everyone."

"I don't think she was used to working on human males who were both sober and not trolling to get laid. Her handbag looked pretty heavy, and I guessed that she was armed. Then, she talked about not being off-world much and thus not being all that sharp on human customs, but she had a lot of human-isms in her speech. Didn't feel right. Especially when she was trying so hard, so fast, to get me alone. She was hitting all the right notes, like she'd been coached, to get me into a bedroom somewhere."

Kasumi allowed herself a moment to imagine that. "I think she was under pressure for time...they waited until you were away from Jack."

"Smart move."

"Heh, yes. You know, I saw her flip off a few asari at the bar who were about to come up and talk to you. Makes one wonder." Kasumi's teasing smile finally returned.

Shepard didn't look at her, and considered his words. "I...wasn't in the mood to be bothered, much. She was just running interference."

"Yes, _that's_ likely all there is to it."

"You can shut up now."

"Shutting up."

The _Normandy_ captain was silent for a long moment, and Kasumi looked down and swung her feet. Sitting on the police skycar, her feet didn't quite touch the ground. In the darkness, the emergency lights painted colors around them silently.

Kasumi cleared her throat. "Um...so...are you ok, Shepard? I mean...do you want to talk later? Privately? You look like you could use a friend to unload on. I don't have a fireplace, but I have some nice artwork, a fine collection of alcohols, and a sceniic view of vast, cold, uncaring space. You can even wear a shirt if you like."

Shepard half-turned his head to her, met her eyes for a second, and twitched a smile. "That sounds pretty nice. Yeah, maybe we should do that."

The small, hooded woman looked down at his bandaged hand again, remembering when he had taken hers in his own, making her feel tiny in comparison. The reassuring, comforting squeeze he given her, before they together activated the erasure of Keiji's memories.

She had lived a selfish life in her adulthood, but that day he had inspired her to experience something new. Sacrifice for the greater good. Immediately after, she had turned to press herself into his hard, lumpy N7 armor and cried into his chest, while the infamous Spectre gently stroked her back like an old friend.

"Shep, in all seriousness, you've seen me at...a rough time. I'd like be there for you in return. You assembled a fantastic team, but I don't think you share the burden enou..."

Detective Anaya returned and stepped up to them. "Ok, Shepard...we're about done here and then I'll release you both. Honestly, I'm tempted to fuck with you for causing me trouble tonight. I could toss you into the bin and force you to get all _Spectre_ on me and talk your way out with invoking Council powers, but I suppose it wasn't _really_ your fault, and also..."

She gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. "_Those_ ones were trouble already. Organized crime members. The one with the armor was a commando washout, still dangerous as hell. Pretty sure she badly underestimated you without your armor, and guns and thought you'd be a pushover. The dead one in the guard's uniform was your basic street killer. The one in the dress..."

"A swallow."

Both Detective Anaya and Kasumi looked at him oddly.

"A what?" Anaya asked.

Shepard shrugged. "It means a pretty bird. A beautiful woman who has the job of seducing enemy agents in order to compromise them in some way. Old Earth term from intelligence agencies. I guess the Russians loved using them hundreds of years ago in the Cold War."

Shepard was speaking in a near-monotone as he looked down at the ground, between his knees and through his hands, then glanced sideways at Kasumi's confused expression. "Did a bunch of work for intel teams in my spec ops NCO days...way before the first _Normandy_."

_The one that I lost. With twenty of my people._

Detective Anaya shook her head. "Okay. I don't have a fucking clue about most of what you just said, but yeah, that sounds about right regarding the 'swallow' thing. Surprised you didn't fall for it. Most human males are pretty consistent about thinking with their dicks, from what I've seen."

"She's pretty observant," Kasumi stage-whispered and nudged Shepard with her elbow, again. Although, honestly, she didn't find the commander to be much like that at all.

Anaya held up a datapad. "Okay, let's wrap this up, Shepard, and then maybe you can get the hell off my planet, for real."

Shepard turned to Kasumi, "Could you do me a tiny favor while I answer a couple more questions? And then you can resume following me at a respectable distance, to keep Big Sister happy?"

"Anything, and of course."

* * *

Shepard found the short-haired - her hair had grown out enough to no longer be considered _shaved_ - biotic sitting across the hall from the bar's door, her back to the wall and her arms resting on her knees. She watched him approach without a change in expression, and with a groan, he put his own back to the wall and slid down to sit beside her. In his hands, he cradled a covered take-out bowl, and a disposable spoon.

"Hey Jack. Done dancing?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that, I was, uh, kicked out. Some guy grabbed my ass so I punched him in the face. Well, tried to. The fucker kinda moved so I got him right in the neck. Heh. He made a funny noise then went down like a sack of shit. Don't look at me like that, I didn't get arrested or nothing. Goons asked me to leave, and I did, real nice and everything."

"Well...thanks for that." He popped the lid from his container. "I've had enough trouble tonight, so I appreciate you keeping it cool."

"So...what's the deal here?"

Shepard sniffed the contents. He was in a much better mood now. "Well, this is pho. It's spelled P-H-O, but you pronounce it 'fuh', it's Vietna..."

"I don't give a shit about your stupid _soup_, dickhead. I mean...your face was just fixing up, now it looks like you stopped a bus with it. You're wearing a different shirt, and it doesn't even fit. Looks like you have blood on your pants. You have your hand wrapped up. You took off and 'had some trouble'."

"Well." _Slurp._ "A hot, barefoot asari, in a _really_ tight and blood-red dress, was carrying her high heels in one hand and invited me upstairs..."

"Is Joker sharing porn with you? Listen, if you don't want to tell me what happened, just fucking say so and let's skip your fantasy land."

_Slurp._ "Ok, I'll stop. I was being partially serious though. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing, so I followed her and screwed up a trap she was setting for me. Fought her and two others in an elevator. Guns and knives came out. I killed one of them. The police are dealing with the two others."

So much for the good mood. "Anyway...yeah. So _that_ happened. It was reckless and stupid of me. Sitting here now, I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

Jack felt the mood change, and discovered she didn't like seeing him beat himself up. "You're terrible at being a man. Should have fucked her first, _then_ kicked her ass."

Shepard looked at her in shock, still holding the spoon in his mouth. Jack saw his face and burst out laughing, resting back against the wall and closing her eyes. Choking down the bite he'd just taken, he laughed with her.

He'd never have imagined her doing this only weeks ago, and he'd never heard her laugh before, not with genuine glee rather then tinged with anger. It sounded nice - higher-pitched and more girlish than her speaking voice - and he was reminded that she had oddly perfect teeth for a pirate-criminal.

"You should write a dating book."

She gave a snorted laugh, and shook her head. "Can I draw the pictures for it, too?"

"I take it back. Kelly still inside?"

"Nah. Her and some asari she was dance-fucking with took off, holding each other up as they walked. She'd be back at the hotel room by now polishing her blue wings. Heh. She just told me about that today. Did I mention I've had a fucking weird day? Oh man, I'm tired and I'm getting weird."

"We should go there."

The biotic cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly. "Really? You're a bigger perv then I thought, nice. Think you can handle three chicks at once?"

Shepard rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Jack, I meant, _outside_ just to be around in case there's trouble. I had a hit put out on me today...I don't think she's a likely target, but still." He crammed in some more soup, then stood up. "Show me where this place is. No more smartass comments, I get enough of that crap from Garrus."

Former Alliance Navy Staff Commander James Shepard, and project experiment, escaped convict and pirate Jack, sat side by side on a low bench in a dark corridor, a few meters from a numbered door. Faintly from within could be heard the occasional loud moan, cry, or a screamed expletive, some of which were in asari and didn't translate well.

The biotic woman was leaning forward with her head in her hands. "I swear to fuck, this has been the weirdest day of my life. Staying up and listening to just the audio part of lesbian porn." The alcohol had fled her system, and she was just tired and grouchy now.

Shepard finished his last spoonful of pho and licked the spoon, then sighed as he looked into the empty container. "Why don't you go to the office and just rent out a different room and get some sleep?"

"I'd rather go back to the ship." Jack ground her palms into her eyes and looked exhausted.

"So would I...but my armor and stuff is trapped in there with Kelly." Another cry from the room, something involving the word _tongue_ and how _awesome_ somebody's was. Shepard winced. Enhanced hearing had downsides, and he was having trouble focusing on the conversation at hand. "This isn't going as planned."

"Fuck it, let's just get a room and crash. Or I'm lying down here and dying, your call."

Shepard's omni-tool chirped with a message.

_Kasumi - stop being so noble and get a damn room, I'll have spare clothes and such available and waiting for you by morning._

Shepard frowned, then looked up and down the walkway they were on. Nothing.

He stood up and yawned, "Right."

* * *

Jack immediately went into the washroom, just around the corner from the two narrow beds, as Shepard flopped down onto one with a groan. After only a few seconds, he muttered a curse and got back up to strip off his shoes, socks, and jeans. With dried asari and human - his own - blood on the jeans, they were in no shape to go onto clean sheets.

He peeled off the too-small shirt and dropped it on the floor, as well. Lying back down, he pulled only the thin white sheet over himself, and groaned in pleasure as he finally settled in. Around the corner, he could hear Jack's clothes and heavy boots hitting the floor of the bathroom.

"Hey, Shepard! Stop making noises like you're playing with yourself."

"Sorry." Muffled by face into pillow.

"I'm taking a shower...no extra clothes here. Stick around for the show when I'm out."

"Oh...kay...I'll go...after..." Blackness took him.

"Uhhh...!" His eyelids fluttered and he half-rose to his elbows, shaking his head. Light streamed into the shuttered window, as the rising light from the star Tasale poured in. His stomach lurched, and he felt like vomiting. The prothean vision again. Hours of watching oozing, tearing flesh being fused into machinery and circuits. Cities burning, over and over. The screaming.

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, Shepard turned his head just as Jack flipped over, putting her bare back to him from the next bed. Was she just watching him?

The white sheet draped over her only reached her lower back, clearly revealing the huge Ωsymbol that dominated her back, covering both shoulder blades and going from mid-back to nearly the back of her neck. He'd never seen it all in unbroken clarity before; she had originally worn the small leather harness, and later changed to a small leather vest that covered the upper half of her back entirely.

Ohm. A symbol of resistance.

Omega. The end. The last.

In the pure morning light, next to the sterile white sheet, the broad, rough scars that were carved into her skin stood out clearly. One ran up her entire spine, as if it had been removed and replaced, a horrible-looking thing. Others ran out from it, like branching roadways, running laterally across her back to her sides, bisecting her shoulders. She had been savagely carved up, like an animal being processed by a butcher, as Cerberus had added and removed amps and nodes to her like exchanging parts on an unfeeling machine.

Torn flesh compromised by technology.

He looked away, it was _too __soon,_ and his stomach twisted at the fresh memory of his nightmares.

He sat up and stretched. Jack didn't move at all, except for the slight rise and fall of her ribs as she breathed. On the floor was a small pile made of her boots, vest, the prison-issued pants she still wore, and...small, thin-waisted black panties. He was pretty sure those were _not_ prison-standard, and they also served to make him very aware that she was naked under her thin white sheet.

Inside the door were two bags - one of them an official Alliance-issued one that Cerberus had inexplicably left in his quarters, awaiting his arrival back on that first day on the SR-2. Later, he'd found that it had been Miranda's doing. His duffel bag, the gel in his shower, his toothpaste - all Alliance navy-standard. She'd either wanted him to be comfortable, or was trying to make him forget he was commanding a Cerberus vessel.

The door had been locked during the night, of course. Not that this was meaningful. Kasumi was, of course, Kasumi.

Jack's eyes were open as Shepard stood up and walked into the washroom, then closed again as she breathed out heavily, looking deflated.

_Stupid fucking coward pussy bitch._

_Watched him have nightmares, staring like a fucking creep. Thinking of how to wake him up, how to say some nice things to make him feel better. Then fake being asleep when he wakes up, anyway. Coward. Fucking kill yourself._

Sitting up, the sheet falling from her to pool at her waist, her eyes narrowed. At the base of the outside door was one of her bags from her pit in the Normandy.

After unwrapping his aching hand and neatly piling the thick synthetic cloth next to the sink, he carefully splashed cold water into his face, chasing away the nausea. Opening his Alliance pack that he had brought in with him, he found his toothbrush, which went to immediate use. Turning on the shower, he stepped in and spent five minutes in cool, clean water.

Stepping out, he toweled himself off, and opened the pack again. Taking out black fatigue pants, he found the normal undergarments, and then pulled out a dark blue t-shirt. It was at least a full size too small, and the front was dominated by block white letters.

SEX MACHINE

_Wonderful. Fucking Kasumi._

He finished getting dressed with mostly one hand, then re-wrapped it. Looking at himself in the mirror, he shook his head with disdain and reluctantly left.

Jack was already dressing, her back to him, and was doing up the belt on a pair of retro-style urban gray camo military fatigue pants. On top was a black, cut-off tank top that barely covered more then her original straps. She turned to face him, her expression a bemused smirk. The center of the shirt-front was a large white star with the word PORN in the center.

Shepard facepalmed. "Oh man...I'm really sorry. Kasumi is..."

"Hey, what do you mean? I fucking _love_ it, I'm keeping it forever. Yours is nice too, _Sex Machine_."

* * *

Stepping out of the motel door, Shepard walked into the morning sunlight, briefly shielding his eyes. At the bench where he and Jack had briefly sat the night before was Kasumi, lounging comfortably and looking relaxed. Next to her stood Thane, hands comfortably folded behind his back.

At the sight of him -and Jack close behind - Kasumi jumped to her feet and trotted over, carrying a small bag in one hand.

"Good morning, kids. Love the shirt, Commander." She paused a moment to snap a photo with her omni-tool as he scowled at her. "Aaaand thank you for that. Here you go." She reached into the bag and handed him a folded gray _Alliance Marine_ shirt of the proper size. "I was just messing with you, boss. Had no intention of making you wear _that_ around in public."

He had to laugh in relief. "Thanks Kasumi, you're the best." He stripped his shirt off right there to change, and as he was pulling it up over his face, he was pretty sure he heard her omni-tool click again.

"Mmm, so true. Here, Jack, I have another shirt for you al..."

"_Hell_ no, I'm keeping this. It's my new favorite shirt." Jack had put on her short leather vest over it, but left it unzipped so the PORN STAR implication was clearly visible.

Kasumi jabbed one finger in Jack's direction. "YOU, girl, are awesome. Ok, I've had a _long_ night of providing security and plotting practical jokes, so I'm off to the ship. Thane brought a shuttle down, and I'll take it back up. Jack, you and I can recover Kelly, pour some coffee into that poor girl - who I can confirm was up _exceedingly_ late - get your stuff _and_ the Commander's armor, and get out of here. I assume you're done here as well, Cap?"

"I'll stop and say goodbye to Liara before we leave Illium."

The thief bowed slightly. "Ok, Thane will tag off and watch your six."

"Thanks again. See you later, Jack. And, good morning, Thane."

The drell inclined his head. "Shepard. No doubt you need a break from our master thief, I promise I won't make your life more difficult today then it needs to be."

As he and Thane strolled away, Shepard looked back and watched Jack walk to Kelly's door with Kasumi, and frowned. It had been several days since he'd confessed his feelings to her on the Normandy, and she'd kept up a barrier of flippant remarks and indifference since then. He had no idea where they stood.

"Thane, I really appreciate tha..." Shepard's omni tool chimed, just as Kasumi and Jack walked out of sight. Miranda's voice greeted him when he activated it, white noise partially obscuring her words.

"Shepard, it's Miranda. I'm on the way down right now, meet me at the shuttle dock. We can't leave Illium yet and I need to talk with you...in person."


	19. The Hate in Me

Human and drell stood side-by-side, eyes to the purple sky of Illium's morning, watching the _Normandy's_ other Cerberus-flagged shuttle cruise gently in for a landing. Already wearing the N7 armor Kasumi and Jack had liberated from Kelly's room, Shepard was armed and ready for whatever trouble Miranda was almost certainly bringing; his helmet comfortably tucked under one arm and his weapons folded and stowed at his back.

Behind him, Kasumi was leading a slumped and bedraggled Kelly up the walkway to the first shuttle Thane had brought down earlier. Behind them, Jack was looking highly displeased about her task of carrying several bags of shopping loot.

"Morning, Kelly," Shepard commented with a smirk as they passed by. The redhead had one long arm draped around the smaller thief, and was leaning heavily upon her. Evidently, they had left the asari that Kelly had _entertained_ until the wee hours to her own devices. Their timetable for leaving planet-side had been accelerated by Miranda's incoming emergency - whatever it may be.

"Uhhhhgh. Not so...loud...sir." Her hair was a bed-head mess, and her makeup was a disaster. Clearly, Kasumi had helped to hastily dress her, then hustled her out of her room without the benefit of a shower or even a merciful serving of coffee.

"You should see the other one," Kasumi stage-whispered for the benefit of all around, making Kelly groan as she hid her face with her free hand.

They both went into the shuttle, with Jack carelessly tossing the packages inside with a grimace of distaste. Ducking inside, the biotic emerged with a ration box, which she promptly tore open to retrieve two protein bars, which were quickly shoved into her pockets. A third one was ripped open and she artlessly shoved half of it into her mouth.

The biotic stomped over to Shepard and Thane, and used the remaining stump of her protein bar to point at them both, as she talked while chewing. "You know what I miss? Killing stuff, blowing things up, and stealing. Real simple. This shore leave bullshit has been more trouble then it's worth. Hey Thane, what's up?"

The drell looked surprised at the casual and not unfriendly greeting. "Good morning."

The click-click-click of Miranda's heels echoed up the tunnel as the _Normandy_ Executive Officer trotted up, looking as harried as the Commander had ever seen her, tension showing in her every movement. Jack backed away three full steps from Shepard, and muttered a curse under her breath.

"Shepard! Thank you for meeting me at short notice...I need to borrow a couple of operatives for a personal matter and time is limited." Miranda's normally precise manner of speaking was hurried and her voice was tight with stress. The Cerberus operative nearly started to wring her hands before making fists and deliberately placing them at her sides, in a clear measure of taking control of herself. "I'd have done this on my own, but I can't risk fail..." Abruptly, she stopped speaking, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You've been in a fight."

The commando raised an armored hand and touched his bruised face. "I was going to report on that back on the Normandy, I was kicked in the face a little, that's all."

Kasumi leaned out of the next shuttle. "And he was stabbed!" she yelled brightly before ducking back in.

Miranda blinked. "Stabbed."

The Normandy captain sighed and pointed to the top of his right shoulder. "Already attended to by a medic. I'm fine."

Jack looked at Shepard, but jerked her thumb casually in Miranda's direction. "Tell bitchface about your broken hand."

Looking at Jack for a moment, as if only just noticing her, the Cerberus operative scowled and turned back to Shepard, folded her arms and leaned back on one leg, hip cocked out. "You _broke your hand_."

Shepard used armored fingers to gently pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes closed and head bowed. "Not my _whole_ hand, just one little bone _in_ my hand. Can we talk about this later? I do not have life-threatening injuries, and I'd know because I've _had_ those."

_Ashley's face, yelling in slow-motion, sounding like she was underwater and miles away, he could not understand the words. His eyes rolled back away from her face, seeing three moons in an orange sky, filled with black smoke and yellow tracer fire. Kaiden appeared over Ash's shoulder, nearly astride my legs, his body aglow as he gestured with a sweeping motion and a half-dome of blue energy appeared before him, intercepting incoming rounds. The barrel of Garrus' Mantis entered the corner of his vision and there was a tremendous explosion of light from it, the backblast whipping hair freed from Ash's bun around her face. Even as his vision started to swim and darken at the edges, she was yelling again and bringing up her bloody hand to tap him on the cheek..._

Miranda blew out a breath of exasperation, and Shepard blinked in surprise that he'd so vividly daydreamed in mid-conversation. "Later, yes." She took a step closer to Shepard, and lowered her voice. "I need...here on Illium, this is where I've hidden..."

She stopped and looked at Jack and Thane, as if she didn't intend to share this with so many people. "It's the reason I joined Cerberus. I need to save my sister."

* * *

"Sir." A nervous-looking technician - the one appointed general manager of this specific project - had approached him, datapad clutched to his chest. "We are as ready as we can be. The department heads have all signed off that we're ready for active phase alpha." The redness in his face under his graying hair, and the lines around his eyes, both betrayed his tension.

The man he addressed didn't spare him a glance, but rather raised his cup of tea to his mouth and sipped.

_They should have her soon. Shame she's so old now. That adds risk, but the payoff potential is just as high if we pull it off just right._

_She could be the most powerful biotic ever created. More then Radim's stupid, broken little toy, and without all the baggage of being an unstable animal. Malleable and trainable. Controllable._

Setting his tea down, he activated his omni-tool and checked for encrypted messages for the seventh time in the last hour.

_Should be news soon._

He finally looked up and found the tech awaiting his response.

"As ready as we _can be_?"

"Yes sir, we...well...there's no _precedent_ to base our data on, but every system we have has been verified and signed off by team leads..." Behind the man, over 50 technicians had gathered and were murmuring with each other, comparing notes. This would be the first baseline test they would be taking with a live subject with full sensor recording in every known method they could.

The amount of data they would be taking in during active phase would rival the data input of an Alliance frigate doing a full spectrum sweep. Thick ropes of cables contained in damage-resistant sleeving ran out of the room and down the hall to heavy racks of equipment, where other technicians on monitors and omni-tools buzzed in tense activity, no individual wanting to be _the guy_ who caused a malfunction.

Dr. Henry Lawson crossed his arms in mild annoyance and paced as over a dozen technicians fiddled and fussed over the raised platform, just inside heavily shielded doors. The thick, transparent polymer windows distorted his view of them almost comically.

"Of course. Clear the area of all non-essential staff as per the documentation, no shortcuts." That would leave himself, one senior technician he trusted not to be squeamish, and four heavily-armed Blue Suns battle-hardened mercs who he was assured would be the same. When the test concluded, the subject would either obey, or be destroyed on the spot.

The test of obedience, of course, would be to kill itself.

With a gesture of his hand, he motioned for the subject to be brought in.

* * *

Shepard placed a hand on Miranda's upper arm and steered her a few steps away from the others. "You...I didn't know you had a sister." Miranda started to follow, then hesitated, and motioned for Jack and Thane to follow. Kasumi poked her head out of the shuttle again, and Shepard looked back to meet her eyes, pointing at the sky and making a small fist-pump motion. _Advance. Go._ The diminutive thief nodded and vanished back inside, closing the shuttle door behind her.

"The number of people in the entire galaxy who _do_ know about this just doubled. You two..." she pointed at Jack and Thane, "are _in_ on this now because you happen to be available, despite my severe misgivings that the lunatic is involved." A pointed look at Jack, who sneered in return. "I'm not telling anyone else about this who does not _absolutely_ need to know, and hopefully the people know _now_ also know how to keep their mouths shut." Despite the generalities of her words, she was staring at Jack disdainfully as she spoke. Shepard's eyes and nostrils flared as he stared daggers at the Cerberus operative, but it went unnoticed.

Jack recoiled, her face twisting in anger. "Oh, I'm helping _you_ with your personal shit now, so we can rescue _another_ perfect little yes-man bitch nobody needs? I don't_ fucking think s_..."

Shepard wheeled on her with a curt chopping gesture. "Jack, stop right there. Did anyone on this crew bail on you when we went to Pragia? Thane and Jacob went down there with us, and they'd hardly even spoken to you at that point. When the bullets started flying, they didn't _change their minds_; they dug in and fought for you. Mordin volunteered to go along. So did Grunt. So did Zaeed. So did Kasumi. _So did Miranda._ We had a briefing while you were down in your pit. I laid it out what the mission was about, and everyone raised hands as available to go. Everyone._"_

Jack's eyes widened in disbelief, but Shepard wasn't done. "Garrus was confined to medbay and he felt guilty as hell because he figured he _owed_ you one. Why did this happen? Because they get it, you're _crew_. If you can't pull in the same direction as the rest of us, you're out. And _out_ means pack your shit and walk." Jack rocked back on her heels with her face reddening, like she had been slapped. Shepard didn't see it; he had already wheeled to face Miranda.

"And _you_..." His finger jabbed angrily at her, "I am even more disappointed in. You are supposed to be the Executive Officer. Do you even know what that means? Day-to-day operations of vessel and crew _on_ _my behalf_. Instead, you monitor me - your personal science project - while serving another master and spend more time reporting on my activities than you do running our ship. How often do you check in with _our people_ and make sure both they and their duties are doing well? _You don't_."

"Every time someone has mentioned any personal interaction with you, it's about you showing up and demanding that they explain how they _screwed something up_. Hammering people for mistakes and helping them do better are completely different things, and you'd better get your head out of your ass and understand that. That is a _goddamned failure of leadership_! Poking _her..._" his blazing eyes never left Miranda's as his finger stabbed the air in Jack's direction while ignoring the tweak of pain from his injured shoulder, "with a verbal stick because you know her weak points? Daring her to defy you while you're standing next to me for some sort of authority backup? That is _fucking cowardly _and you should be better than that!"

Kasumi's shuttle had warmed up, and next to them it slowly rose up from the landing pad. Shepard had raised his voice to compensate as he ranted, and by the last words he was nearly roaring, his face hard and flushed with barely contained outrage.

"You're _not_ running a project anymore, you are looking after the people that look after our _home_ out there in the fucking black vacuum! If you can't do the job, say the word and Garrus is the XO. _You_ can sit in your office full-time and write reports to Cerberus. You will have _no other__ responsibilities!_"

Miranda went from taking a full step back from his fury, to standing firm with her face white and still, fists clenched at her sides. She felt like he was trying to melt her alive with his gleaming silver-blue eyes.

"Are we through wasting time on this insignificant bullshit when we could be helping your family?"

Miranda stiffened even more, and nodded tightly. "Yes, sir."

Shepard turned his glare on Jack, who seemed on the verge of hyperventilating. "Member of this crew. In or out? I need to know I can count on you for anything, not just when you _feel like it,_ or if the exact combination of teammates is exactly to _your liking_."

There was an apprehensive moment when he wasn't sure what she would do - she looked torn between attacking him, running, or crying. She nodded tightly. "I'm in. I'll...get the job done."

Shepard's eyes hit them both, in turn. "Good. This stays between the four of us, got that? This talk, Miranda's thing, all of it. Two minutes to grab what you need for food and weapons, then sitrep as the shuttle gets us where we need to go." He abruptly turned and strode away towards the shuttle Miranda had piloted down.

Miranda and Jack glanced at each other, then away, then at Thane. The drell had stood perfectly still the entire time, hands folded behind his back at casual attention. He took in a slow breath through his nose, and released it the same way.

"That was...unpleasant," his voice buzzed. "Perhaps you both should consider compiling a list of words and actions that set him off, and _not do those things_."

* * *

As a still-steaming Shepard rooted in the supply crates of the shuttle, Miranda strode past him and entered the cockpit, settling into the pilot's seat. She could hear and feel the blood pounding in her ears from her own anger. Or was it shame?

She'd not felt so indignant, yet cowed by another person, since she'd been a teenager, backing down from her own father's withering criticism. Or felt so disgusted by her need for approval since the early days of soaking in praise from the Illusive Man.

This much she did know - it was the first time she had been so scorchingly assessed in nearly twenty years, and found so wanting.

The Illusive Man had only ever offered her encouragement, honeyed words, and the occasional calculated challenges that were clearly designed to motivate.

Her father had savagely berated her mistakes, both real and perceived; endlessly accusing her of sloth, idiocy, sloppiness - whatever he could seize upon. When she had done everything to perfect precision and nothing could be found wrong, he simply said nothing at all.

As she grew older, it became more clear that she was simply a tool being measured and tested. Perfection was not to be praised, as it was the expected result. In the end, she simply became so hardened and distant from his criticism that she shut down from him, turning off her emotions and locking them away where they could not be harmed.

Critical self-appraisal was so ingrained, now, that she still held herself to the same standards, as if it were still possible to overcome his disapproval. And she expected the same excellence from others. If Miranda could do it, then others damn well better measure up, also.

Today, the cold glass of water in her face was the discovery that Shepard had been measuring her from an entirely new direction, a new metric she'd never even considered. The ability to support others and lift them up into success.

She'd utterly, completely failed.

When they had stepped foot onto the _Normandy SR-2_ for the first time, she had thought she was was showing him his new life. That she was leading him, instructing him on what to do - as if she, and Cerberus, were _lending_ the ship to him.

She had been grossly mistaken.

The instant he'd crossed the airlock, he had strode aboard _his_ ship. He was greeting _his_ people. She had merely been walking on his floors and breathing his air.

Command of this vessel had been so natural for him, she didn't even see it happen - didn't know her performance review had already started. Within the hour, he was visiting every single person. By the end of the day, he had them talking about their history, families, hopes, fears, and dreams.

And then he owned them.

To the majority of the crew, Cerberus was an insignia, a mission statement, and a paycheck. This man was _Commander Fucking Shepard_ and he actually cared about them.

It had taken Cerberus two years to build, outfit, and shakedown the ship, as well as arrange for a crew.

One day to shift the loyalty of every person on it, and she was so wrapped up on protocols and rules she didn't even notice.

First officer of the Normandy SR-2, indeed.

_You blind, stupid, ignorant cow._

* * *

Ripping open the seals of the carton, Shepard reached in and took out four protein bars, stuffing them into a waist pouch, followed by a hydropack of enhanced fluids. Not the finest breakfast, but a lot better then nothing at all.

His blood still pumped hard with anger that he was trying to settle, with limited success.

_It almost happened again._ Just the day before, he'd lost control of his anger so completely he'd come within moments of killing an incapacitated opponent without even the excuse of a tactical necessity. More so, there was going to be nothing clinical about it. He had fully planned to stare into her eyes and watch her die.

Shepard had a long history of disciplined self-control behind him - perhaps not Kaidan-like, but still - and now something was _different_; and it was getting worse.

Dropping the carton on the shuttle bench, he took a deep, hopefully calming, breath.

Many things were different now. Distractions of thought threatened to carry him away whenever there was no task at hand to focus on. His dreams - and nightmares - more vivid then ever. He'd woken several times, suffocating in his suit, over and over again.

Waking to have his hands clawing at a helmet and armor he was not wearing.

Watching Prothean cities burn. Charred structures wreathed in flames.

Seeing Sovereign crushing and incinerating thousands; consuming them. Ripping the Citadel out of space, like plucking an apple from a tree.

Watching Saren tear out Liara's throat, Garrus' heart; snapping Ashley in half over his knee.

Kaidan vaporizing into dust and fire.

His conversation with Jack at the bar came back, in perfect word-for-word clarity. Every syllable, every inflection of her voice. _How was that possible?_

"_Hearing? Balance? Stronger?"_ she'd asked. Yes. _"I know you're tougher and heal faster."_ She was correct.

_Then she'd asked me if I've "ever fucked in a hot tub"._

Shepard blinked. Hands on hips, he was standing in the shuttle passenger bay, staring blindly into the featureless hull, his mind racing.

_I didn't even hear her say that. I was reading Ash's letter at the time. I remember every letter of it. The 45th word of the first paragraph was "passed". What the fuck? How can I know that?_

He could hear Jack's question now, as if he had fully paid attention at the time.

Shepard turned to look at the open cockpit door, and regarded the back of Miranda's head.

Cerberus had done a lot more then just bring him back. Jack's statement came back to him, as clear as if she was standing beside him now.

"_Didn't know you back then, but that guy...he's gone. You're not even you anymore."_

* * *

Miranda at the helm, they lifted off into the brilliant blue and cloudless Illium morning sky. Beside her in the co-pilot chair sat Shepard, and just behind them - sitting in the cramped opening of the door - was Jack, sitting sideways with her back to one side of the hatch, her boots pressed to the other. Just beyond her, Thane sat cross-legged on the troop bay floor, his knees almost touching her legs.

The convict was absently munching a protein bar and looking sour, no doubt still simmering over Shepard's sudden harsh treatment of her.

"Ok, Miranda, talk to us."

The Cerberus officer blew out a slow, steady breath, clearly steeling herself.

"Right. Okay. Henry Lawson, my father. When I was in my teens, he...grew a new daughter. To replace me. I had been judged a failure. Perfection or uselessness, a binary equation that I ended up on the wrong side of."

She took a deep breath again, glancing behind her for an instant at Jack before facing front again, her teeth gritted.

"After what I had lived through...I could not allow that to happen to her. To Oriana."

Thane spoke quietly, from the floor behind her seat. "He _grew_ her? I do not understand."

"Right. I'll go back a step. I myself have no mother. I'm made entirely from my father's DNA, which he then manually altered in an attempt to build the perfect person. He removed all diseases and undesirable traits, while attempting to maximise some other areas to as close to human ideal as possible. I was then artificially incubated and...well, tank-born, not entirely unlike Grunt. Except just as far as a normal birth term, not to adulthood, so I emerged in physical infancy."

"My father alone _raised_ me, if that's what you'd call it. Trained or molded may be more accurate. He continued his research and did other projects in the meantime - he was a Cerberus employee in those days. I was a personal project outside of work, for him. And yes, I am well-versed in human history and am _fully_ aware of uncomfortable 1930's Master Race parallels."

Shepard commented this time. "Later, when he...thought he had taken you as far as you could go? He did the same thing again?"

Miranda shook her head, sending coal-black hair flowing about her neck. "Not so simple. I was not the first, I was just the first he _kept_. There were others after me, as well, I later found out. Until he found Oriana's results to be acceptable, and kept her as well.

Shepard's face darkened as he considered the full meaning of her words. "He..."

"Disposed of the others."

Jack made a disgusted noise behind them.

"Dozens per year. They were garbage to him. Once Oriana was born, I was nearly garbage as well, the outdated model. I believe, in retrospect, he didn't bother to kill me because I would be useful in assisting with her upbringing. She's like a non-identical twin to me. There have been improvements, I just do not know what they are. She's seventeen now and she's never met me, really."

Miranda's voice went quieter, and her eyes were more distant as she clearly was playing back scenes in her mind. "I last saw her in person when she was ten months old. I escaped with her when I was eighteen."

Shepard nodded to himself. "I can assume your father took that poorly."

"Shots were fired."

The shuttle was quiet for a long minute. When Miranda continued, her voice was tight with the emotion of her memories.

"I was in the early days of being on the run with a near-infant when The Illusive Man tracked me down and spoke with me. He offered me safety from my father, and promised we could place Oriana into safety with foster parents, who didn't need to know anything about her - or me. I could monitor her life from a distance, but not interfere, so I'd know she was safe."

"Also, he took me on as an employee, offered me advanced education, responsibility...he _invested_ in me. A decade later, I was one of his very top people, and the Lazarus Project was my crowning achievement. And so here we are. Along the way, I've done a few subtle things to nudge her in directions I thought would be good for her, but she doesn't know I exist."

"Nor do her 'parents', but they are average, normal, pleasant middle-class people; who happen to have a very gifted, adopted teenage daughter that they love dearly. From what I'm able to gather, she's very happy. She plays the piano _very_ well, she's very close to dating a certain boy she likes." Her voice cut off for a moment, tightened by emotion. The shuttle was deathly quiet.

"Her parents work for a Cerberus shell company that is perfectly independent and does chemical research. They have no idea they are connected to Cerberus at all. They happened to be unable to conceive, and they were looking into adoption options at the right time."

"Cerberus has shell companies? That's fucking wonderful." Jack tossed her protein bar wrapper back into the empty crew compartment. The complexity of seeing Cerberus dead and burned just went _way_ up.

Miranda nodded, her voice stronger, steering back out of deeply personal ground. "Of course, over a dozen, and those are just the ones I'm sure of. Most of the companies don't even know; they're just acquisitions for revenue purposes. We _did_ spend billions of credits on the Commander here, and that money comes from somewhere. The _Normandy_ was enormously expensive. Chances are you've all purchased something in your lives that was indirectly manufactured or sold by Cerberus. Fingers in a lot of pies, so to speak. Perhaps that protein bar you just ate came from a plant owned, in some fashion, by Cerberus."

Shepard glanced behind him just in time to see Jack grimace in revulsion. After a moment, Miranda glanced back as well, and met Shepard's eyes halfway, his face a warning.

"I'm not saying that's _actually true_." The operative shrugged at Shepard, raising her brows as if to say - _see? I tried to be nice, there._

Shepard sighed and looked out the passenger window, taking in the glorious Illium skyline. It was a start.


	20. She Said, She Said

Jack closed her eyes, leaned back, and tried to ignore Miranda's voice.

The biotic was wedged into the available space behind the only two seats in the front of the shuttle, her back pressed against the frame of the hatch leading the passenger crew. Listening to the Cerberus Princess bare her goddamned soul to Shepard was disturbingly close to hearing her sound like an actual human being.

A controlled childhood. Impossible to please authority figure. No future in that existence beyond death and disposal, to be replaced by the next and better thing.

Her stomach rolled as she caught the vague parallels to her own history.

_Shit. I wish I'd never heard any of this._

_Fifteen minutes ago he was screaming at her - well, us, but mostly her I guess - and now, look at him. Leaning closer, looking all sincere n' shit. Drawing stories and details out of her that sound like, fuck, she's never eeeeever told anyone about this and holy shit, Shepard you're __**such**__ a good listener and __**whoopsie**__ my top just fell open..._

_Fuck, his face. Look at it. All warm and big eyes and, "Yeah, you can tell me anything. Forget that whole thing where I reamed you out and called you a fuck-up."_

_And people call __**me**__ a psycho._

_And Thane is staring at me._

Still kneeling just beside her, the drell assassin was looking at her with his brow slightly furrowed. The drell was difficult to read by nature, but it looked like concern.

_What was I looking like when I was acting out my little play in my head? Well, that's fine, people think I'm nuttier then squirrel shit already. What's the fucking difference?_

The biotic shook her head at him, and gave a dismissive half-wave.

_It's nothing, I'm fine. Nothing going on here._

He shrugged nearly imperceptibly, and turned his eyes to the front again.

Surprisingly, she didn't find it very bothersome to have him so close. The drell was like a pond of still, cool water. Inoffensive, quiet, serene. A soothing and predictable presence - and he was deadly as hell without having ego enough to bother broadcasting it. Jack could appreciate that.

_Fuck, I used to hate everybody._

_That was easier._

_Nothing's been the same since I set foot on that asshole's goddamn ship._

* * *

Expertly and smoothly, Miranda descended the shuttle into the beautiful city below them. Shepard's eyes were on the external monitors the whole time, as tall, thin, graceful towers striped in vibrant purple lights passed all around them, cutting slices out of the glow of the setting sun.

_This really is a gorgeous place, and still not half as nice as Thessia, so I hear. _Shepard had never been there in person. _If things had gone differently with Liara..._

_No, don't. Stop right there._

The _Normandy_ captain cleared his throat. "You've explained _why_ we're here. Next step - what's the plan?"

Miranda nodded curtly. "I have contacts here. They've warned me my father discovered Oriana is here, and there are mercenaries here to abduct her and take her off-world. My father would never leave his precious _work_ to do this himself, so he's waiting for her elsewhere. Likely he has a welcome all prepared, a truly beautiful prison of the finest materials."

The raven-haired woman stopped for a moment to compose herself, clearly struggling with her composure.

"I don't see an alternative to beating him to her, relocating her and her adoptive parents myself. Cerberus is already arranging alternative employment for them on a different world, and schools for her. I had to cash in some favors I was hoping to hang onto. You may not like the Illusive Man, but he's always supported me in this matter."

Miranda ran one hand through her hair in irritation. "I didn't _want_ to do this. They'll be uprooted and forced to vanish, like a witness protection arrangement. _Dammit_, she'll be devastated."

Shepard nodded, forced to agree. He was still watching the skyscrapers and the violet sky of the setting sun. "It's better then the alternative. At least she'll finally get to meet you."

The Cerberus officer shook her head firmly. "No. I have Niket here to arrange things and go with them."

"Niket?"

"He's my only friend from my old life. I've known him since I was nine years old. I've had him watch over Oriana for fifteen years, while Cerberus has paid him a stipend. He's the one that's kept tabs on her, from a distance, and fed me information.

Father doesn't know about him, so he'll be a good middleman between myself and Oriana. He's arranging for them to pack up what they can, and he has an off-world shuttle waiting. They can have a new life. It's...safer this way."

Shepard tore his gaze away from Ilium and looked over at her, and in return she steadfastly refused to meet his eyes.

* * *

Staring into the blazing, twisting red fire of the star Anadius, the smoking man crossed his legs as he reclined in his chair, absently stroking his chin with his free hand.

It had been a gamble to connect Niket with Dr. Lawson, arranging for Oriana's return to him, but with Shepard alive and whole, the scales had tipped. The father was now worth more to him than the daughter, and it was time to pull him back into the fold.

However, he had underestimated Miranda's resourcefulness.

She had caught wind of the plans being made to extract her younger clone-sister - plans made by Niket himself, in large - using Henry's funds. Now both parties on Illium were chasing the same prize.

No matter.

He had promised Henry a chance at Oriana, and he had provided exactly that. If that chance happened to _not_ work out in the doctor's favor, so be it. He didn't need to know anything more.

* * *

Shepard wiped blood from his mouth, and took a halting step, wincing as his knee protested. Enyala - a vanguard - had biotically charged into him, shoulder-blocking him into a support beam. Only his armor had saved him from having both of his legs mangled and possibly shattered, even with his bone reinforcements.

Stepping over a dozen Eclipse corpses, Jack and Thane approached him, showing no obvious injuries other than fatigue. The biotic pawed at her dripping face with the back of her hand, smearing the mascara of one eye. She had taken full advantage of her chance to unleash her biotics, and from her chosen place in the battle, Eclipse corpses and shattered cargo containers were scattered all about.

As Jack arrived next to him, Shepard produced an energy drink pouch and offered it to her. The convict accepted it wordlessly, tore it open, and gulped greedily before dropping it at her feet with a gasp for air.

Jack looked at him with bright, wide eyes for a moment, chewed her bottom lip - then cursed under her breath and strode away, hands curled into tight fists of frustration.

Shepard recalled her words from Pragia, and as she strode away he noted he may have just avoided being thrown to the ground and forcibly stripped of his armor by the combat-aroused biotic. Thane followed his gaze to the retreating woman, then back to him questioningly.

The assassin had fought from the shadows like a wraith, hardly noticed next to the convict's onslaught of screaming and glowing chaos. The drell used her as a mobile firebase, like Shepard himself had done in the past with his friend Urdnot Wrex. The drell looked as if he had nearly overtaxed himself, physically, but took deep, steady breaths to recover himself. Thane nodded at Shepard while holding up a hand to ward off concern.

Shepard imagined there was a time when Thane had been a tireless agent of death, but suffering from terminal lung disease as he was, those days were past.

The N7 soldier knelt and considered the corpse at his feet - the twisted and bloody body of the Captain Enyala. Her armor was now punctured and cracked in a dozen places, while his own bore the dents of charging attacks and the scars of shotgun blasts.

It wasn't often he'd faced an opponent even more aggressive than himself, but she'd been reckless and fearless, both. Any grudging admiration he'd normally feel was tempered by the fact she was also a cold-blooded murderer. Niket had been still trying to explain himself to an outraged, betrayed Miranda when the asari vanguard had abruptly dismissed his life.

Niket had admitted, _he_ had been the one to reach out to her father to offer Oriana up. _He_ had been the one about to act as Eclipse's local guide to Oriana.

"_I was looking out for her interests,"_ he'd claimed. _"Oriana needs to be with her real fa..."_

The shocking, sudden blast of Enyala's shotgun, point-blank into his back, had ended his words forever. Hot droplets of his life's blood, and small bits of his torso, had rained over them even as a dozen Eclipse mercs moved forward to support Enyala. The time for words had most certainly come to an end.

Rising to his feet with a grunt of discomfort as his knee protested, he turned and limped towards Miranda. The Cerberus operative was silently kneeling beside Niket's body, which lay in a pool of blood. A crimson stream snaked away from them to vanish into a drain in the warehouse floor. Amazingly, he had survived until the end of the brief battle. Moments ago, Miranda had been leaning over him, her ear close to his face as he whispered to her.

As he spoke words only she would know, her face had fallen from anger, to sadness, and finally, to grief as, the words no longer came. Shepard's quiet steps brought him to standing beside her, and he waited, not speaking.

Miranda didn't look up. "He thought he was doing the right thing."

There was a long silence before Shepard answered. "It seemed that way."

"He didn't know anything about what Father did to me. He didn't know what he'd be sending her back to. He thought he was saving her, from this...fake life, back to her real one. One of privilege."

"He was still looking out for her, then. I'm sorry."

Miranda rocked back so she was sitting on her heels, her hands on her thighs, and spoke softly. "I know. I feel..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head, not knowing the words. "There is some good news. He didn't pass on to Father any details other than he knew where she was. So, he doesn't know who her parents are, or their lives and jobs or...well, this is good. I can hide them easier."

Reaching down, she patted Niket's forehead fondly, and smoothed a lock of hair that fell across his forehead, then stood.

"Cerberus will provide a new life on another planet, allow them to continue their careers with a transfer but they can stay in their company. It will be disruptive, but not as bad as it could be. Pardon me if I don't say where." She looked over to him and offered a half-smile of apology.

The _Normandy_ captain nodded and touched her shoulder with a comforting hand. "Of course. If she's safe then you're happy."

Her smile faded as she looked back down at the body of Niket. "You stopped me. I was going to shoot him myself, for all the wrong reasons. I'd have had to live with that. I...let emotions get to me, and I screwed up. I _screwed up_. Just like father always said."

Shepard leaned down and placed his good hand on her shoulder. "Miranda, perfection is a fantasy that doesn't exist outside of your father's mind. Let it go." The Cerberus agent nodded without replying.

Jack was standing next to Shepard now, and glanced at him before looking down at Niket. "Hey, why not just find your dad and w...you can just kill the fucker?" She looked back to Shepard as he winced at her bad sense of timing, and she shrugged her thin shoulders.

"I've not heard a clue about where he is in over fifteen years. And recently, you could say I've been busy," she added as she glanced sideways at Shepard. "But I won't be busy forever. If I'm still alive after we deal with the Collectors - now that I know he's trying to get her back - I'll find him. And then I'll kill him." Her voice was cold and hard, as if a final decision had just been made, that was now cast in stone and unalterable.

"Let's go back to the _Normandy_. We've done all we can. The urgency has passed and Cerberus can look after the rest." Miranda turned to walk past them to the shuttle, but Shepard reached out and touched her arm to stop her.

"Miranda...do you want to go see her? Everyone on this world who would have harmed her is dead right now. It's the perfect time."

"No. No, I've kept her safe this long by staying away."

The drell startled them all by speaking suddenly. "If what we _think_ we know about the Reapers comes to pass, there will be galactic war in our near future. One should not wait to be with loved ones at _some other time_."

The Cerberus operative turned to meet his bottomless black eyes, and for a moment they held gazes. She then turned to Shepard, as if in unspoken question.

He answered quietly. "Right to the very last minute...I thought I'd always have more time. Until the moment when I knew I was wrong."

With a sigh, she leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling, where the glass skylights revealed the bright noon sky. She took a long breath and considered. "I...I can at least be close enough to see her with my own eyes. That would be...nice."

* * *

Operations Chief Ashley Williams was suspended - upside-down in a bat-like manner - in a retaining harness in the belly of a specialized light frigate that was about half the size of the original _Normandy_. It was purposely designed to look like a common private small cargo vessel and, when in actual use by Alliance specforces, would usually mingle in with civilian traffic when such cover was available.

A glance to her left and right, through the thick glass of her "breather helmet" that had been modified for just such a maneuver as the one she was about to perform, confirmed that her two marine trainee companions were also at status green, ready for...

The door below her, meaning just above her head due to her orientation, snapped open and her armored body was fired out into open space.

After a moment of terrifying disorientation, she craned her neck to find the globe of Earth filling her field of vision, and quietly gasped at its beauty. The entire world was separated from her widened eyes by only her thin visor; it was vast, magnificently detailed, and magical to behold.

_My God, it's never been so beautiful. Never like this._

_Endless oceans. Clouds. I can see storms...lightning bolts!_

So different from leaning against a window and peering out, this felt as though she could simply reach out and brush her fingers over the atmosphere of the world. Watch the clouds swirl as her fingers passed through them, like a puff of smoke in a still room.

_I could spend the rest of my life exactly...right...here._

The tiny, barely perceptible tug of the planetary mass grew slightly stronger, and she continued in, plunging towards the world head-first as the slowly-spinning cradle of humanity grew larger and larger.

_Gravity._

_Perhaps this is what God's magic feels like. It's not a thing that holds you down. It's a thing that brings you home._

There was only the barest hint of atmosphere starting to be evident, not enough to press against her limbs and hold them against her body. She was free to reach out, arms wide, as if embracing the cradle of her entire species.

* * *

"I still have something left that he's not taken from me. Thank you, Shepard. All of you." Miranda spoke quietly as she peered across the small plaza at the three people loading their belongings into a private shuttle, an asari speaking to them and evidently explaining as best she could the sudden upheaval of their lives.

"There she is. She's safe. With her...family." Miranda smiled with a warmth he'd never seen before, then he followed her eyes until he picked out..._well of course_. Looking - naturally - much like he would imagine a teenaged Miranda to appear. The beautiful young girl was slightly thin, slightly awkward, and entirely striking; just blossoming into womanhood. With a broad smile, she trotted away from her friends with a wave, and approached a skycar that was just opening to reveal a middle-aged, professional-looking couple.

Shepard looked back to Miranda, and was about to make a small joke about how pretty Miranda _used_ to be, when he saw her smile crumpling away.

_She's seeing the life she never had. And won't let herself be a part of._

"We should go back to the ship," Miranda quietly said, finally.

"Miranda. Go talk to her. Don't you want that more then anything?"

Sharpness returned to her face. "It's not about what I _want_. It's what's right for _her_. She has a family and a life, I'll just complicate that for all of them."

"Would it really be so bad for her to know she has a sister who watches over her, and loves her?"

The agent's face went soft again, and her eyes moistened as she looked back across the plaza. A long, silent moment passed, while Jack looked down at her boots and Thane cleared his throat quietly.

"I...I guess not."

The N7 commando reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "Go ahead, we'll wait here. Take as much time as you need," he added softly.

Fifteen minutes later, Miranda walked back to them, her chin bent down to her chest to hide her face, and silently entered the elevator they were waiting in. She turned, looked up, and two perfect Lawsons, girl and woman, waved and smiled. The doors closed on Miranda's happy tears and they were away.

* * *

In the clear jungle sky the color of deep ocean, a black speck appeared directly above the head of an Alliance officer wearing light tropical fatigues. The uniformed man calmly craned his neck up, shielding his eyes from the sun, then nodded to himself. After a moment of tracking the movement of the black speck, he backed away at a trot from the large orange _X_ spray-painted into the dirt, sticks, and leaves of the flattened clearing.

With a loud _thrummmm_ noise, indicating the effect of the back-mounted mass-inertia damper, a heavily armored soldier hit the X and rolled to her feet - Avenger rifle already up and spraying incendiary rounds into three man-shaped targets, setting them ablaze without a moment's hesitation. Dropping the hot Avenger, she drew forth a combat knife and charged at the observing officer as he noted the time on his omni-tool. Sprinting directly past him, she plunged the blade into a tree trunk -also marked with an _X _- while shouting with aggression.

As the Alliance officer calmly entered information into his omni-tool, Chief Williams pulled her breather helmet off with a _click-hiss_ of re-equalizing atmospheres, revealing her sweaty face and dampened hair. The re-entry, despite kept to a manageable speed by the damper, had been _hot_ and the midday sun above Rio de Janeiro didn't help in the slightest.

"How'd I do, Eltee?" With a shrugging motion, Ash started discarding the mass damper and oxygen tanks from her back, and she had to restrain herself from jumping up and down, her blood running high and flushed with excitement.

"Was that seriously your first drop outside the simulator? Outstanding, Chief. Outstanding. I can't say it's the best I've seen on first attempt, but none have done it better, either. Care to see if you can do it twice in a row?"

"_Hell_ yes, I could do nothing but that for the rest of my life, sir. Send me up and spit me out again." She was pleased with herself. With the exception of a fleeting moment as she'd hit the mesosphere, she'd managed to not think of Shepard's lifeless body hurtling towards the surface of Alchera.

The officer laughed. "Hell, Williams, allow me to respectfully commend you on the size and fortitude of your huge testicles. Some trainees - good soldiers mind you - flop down here, vomit in their helmet, fucking _refuse_ to ever do that again, and we send 'em back to their unit, no harm."

"They're morons, sir, that was the most fun I've ever had with my clothes on. Hell, the Alliance should _charge_ for that shit, can't believe I did it for free."

"Congratulations, Williams, you are so noted as receiving my recommendation as passing your final N3 certification regarding Orbital Jump Diving." The two soldiers exchanged salutes, then shook hands.

"Sir, thank you sir."

"Now then, collect your rifle and report to base. While you were playing human meteor, I received a message that you have a comm waiting for you from the brass. Sounded important. Dismissed."

"Sir, yes sir."

Minutes later, Ash was in the rear seat of an open-top troop transport skycar as it skimmed over the tropical forest, taking up only one of its twelve seats. In front, the pilot could faintly be heard humming to himself tunelessly, while Ash undid her bun, allowing her long, damp hair to whip around in the hot and humid wind.

It felt fantastic and free to be out of the helmet, breathing the tropical air. Placing her elbow over the lip of the transport hull, she leaned out and looked down as they passed over riverways and waterfalls.

_Used to be "Brazil", so I hear. So beautiful. Not seen it since basic training, and we didn't exactly get to sight-see back then._

Ashley hoped she wasn't being immediately sent off-world, coming back here had been wonderful...she may have been born on Sirona but this was her homeland.

God may be everywhere, but was it possible He was here just a little _more_?

* * *

An armor-storage, shower, and change of clothes later, Ashley was sitting in the spartan office of the base commander, Major Amelia Brockway.

"Enjoyed your return to The Villa, Chief?"

"A lot more enjoyable then my previous visit, ma'am."

"Well, they say N1 is the hardest of all, that's to weed people out before the Navy wastes too much time and money on you worthless pukes." Major Brockway tempered the casual insult with a genuine smile. Ashley decided she was actually quite nice considering she operated the base which was responsible for turning out specforce operatives for the entire Systems Alliance. She'd had fully expected one hardass bitch when she had walked in here.

One would suppose the Major was, at least, completely spared from the presence of incompetent soldiers, for just being invited here meant you had _it_, whatever _it_ was.

"Judging from your file, you'd be a natural for combat instruction and zero-G specializations also, but that's a topic for another time. You're with me." Abruptly Major Brockway stood and filed out of the room, Ashley in tow.

Silently, they walked through the halls of Interplanetary Combatives Academy. As they passed what looked like a small mess room, her eyes caught a faded poster on the wall.

One of the images snapped on the Citadel two years ago, with her and Shepard embracing in the smoking rubble after the death of Sovereign and Saren. Liara and Garrus had been callously edited out, leaving just the two humans, and below in large block lettering was the caption _MARINES, FUCK YEAH_.

Ashley winced at the sight of it. At first, the appearance of that poster into promotional circulation had led to endless ribbing from her fellow troops, as well as understated respect. That, she didn't mind so much. The intentional exclusion of her two alien friends - despite her initial ambivalence towards them - now seemed insulting to her. They had fought, bled, and risked their lives right beside her. Was humanity so weak-minded that it needed to pretend only they themselves could be heroic?

With a scowl, she looked away and kept walking.

Two hallways later, the Major paused outside of a hardened bunker door and flashed her omni-tool, which prompted a panel to activate which accepted her retina scan, followed by voiceprint.

Ash frowned. _What the hell is going on?_

With a deep humming noise, the blast-door slid over and thudded into rest. The Major stood aside and swept her arm invitingly. "You only. I'll be back in my office when you're done, if you need to update me. If not, good work today. Dismissed."

Ash saluted crisply, and with a raised eyebrow of trepidation she stepped inside, the blast door thudding shut behind her. This room was built to be entirely secure from the outside world for sensitive communication, and the sensation of isolation was both sudden and small octagonal room was dominated by a knee-high round platform the size of a small, two-person table top, and it was glowing with energy. A waist-high railing surrounded it to establish proper usage distance.

A Quantum Entanglement Communicator.

She knew what they were, of course, but they were hideously expensive devices and she had never personally used a full holographic model before.

The platform hummed, and a gridded form in blue light stepped into whatever device was on the other side. Ash barely resisted from gasping in surprise.

"Hello, Chief. Good to see you again."


	21. Frayed Ends of Sanity

Upon returning to the shuttle, Thane offered to pilot for the return trip to the _Normandy_, as Miranda was understandably distracted and still on the raw edge of emotions. Not wishing to be stuck alone in the rear bay with her, Jack jumped into the co-pilot seat, leaving Shepard and Miranda in the back, a decision she quickly regretted when she saw them sitting side by side comfortably and having a private conversation. _Fuuuuck, that's just great. Tits 'n Ass Lawson is free to apply her skills now._

In truth, Shepard had never shown a romantic interest in Miranda that she knew of, but the Cerberus operative had been oddly humanized in her eyes on this day, and perhaps, in Shepard's eyes as well. Jack turned her head slightly to the side and strained to listen in.

* * *

Sitting in nearly identical postures, the two were leaning forward with elbows on knees. Miranda looked as if she was hoping to gain some privacy via her curtain of long, jet-black hair around her face - and Shepard leaned forward with her so he could speak quietly and still be heard.

"You know, I've never seen you look this happy. Or happy at all, come to think of it. You should try it more often, it looks good on you." Everything looked good on her, of course. His eyes drifted over the generous swell of her breasts under her tight bodysuit, her trim and narrow waist, flaring out to generous hips and the wide curve of her spectacular ass..._shut up, shut up, why am I like this?_

Miranda wiped her eyes with her gloved hands and sniffed loudly, but also chuckled quietly. "I feel like a proper mess, but thank you, Commander. As charming as your reputation has long suggested."

"Not always, no. I said some very tough things to you this morning. Very tough. I regret some of those things." Shepard felt his face fall, and a pit in his stomach formed. _You owe her your life._ He knew she had reassembled him bit by bit for two years, every day, and every waking moment he had been _her_ responsibility.

All with the Illusive Man watching over her shoulder, as well as her huge team of people with a complete professional and career investment - all of this would have weighed on her shoulders. The pressure must have been crushing, and his thoughts went back to the chasing of Saren and the discovery of the existence of Sovereign. In those times, he had felt the future of his galaxy resting on his shoulders. That sensation had never entirely left.

She shook her head, her charcoal tresses waving as she did so. Shepard pictured momentarily her kneeling between his legs, her head moving up and down on him, his hands fisted in that gloriously long, shiny, infinitely black hair as her lips and tongue.._.Jesus Christ what?_

"Shepard, don't apologize for that. I'd say you were spot-on about most of it. I'm guilty of thinking myself infallible. At Cerberus, there's only been success for me. I was challenged, but also given support and resources I've never had before. Put into position to succeed and rewarded with responsibility. I started to think I was not just special, but _special_. Then...you. My crowning achievement jumped up, grabbed a suit of armor and a handgun, and went right to work. It was a home run for me, and it went to my head. I thought I was infallible. I stepped onto the _Normandy_ thinking I was the most important thing there and you were just a figurehead that I was going to steer around. Which is...bloody ridiculous, and ignorant."

Miranda spent a long, silent minute looking at her hands, picking at her gloves as she looked lost in thought. When she resumed speaking, it was at half her previous volume, as if she was giving confessional.

"Do you know what I was thinking for all of those two years? That it was a waste of time. That you were just a soldier like any other. But the Illusive Man gave me a task, and _damn_ everyone if I wasn't going to succeed at it. I didn't believe in you at all. Now, look at us. It's been a single month, and you have a group of completely incompatible specialists fighting together as a team - _and_ we gave the Collectors their first bloody nose, perhaps ever. Both without your XO doing her damn job."

Shepard's eyes went far away, looking through the opposite wall of the shuttle. _Grunt's corpse, his armor broken open and hollowed out from being partially disintegrated, the remaining flesh cooked and hissing...he could have been the future of his race, a new era for an entire species. But not now, because you let him get killed. Failure, you're a fucking failure. You killed a piece of the future, you incompetent stupid shit._

He could feel his eyes sting with tears, and the surprise of it brought him back to the now, and he physically shook his head to clear it, and wiped his face with his good hand. Miranda was still talking...Shepard frowned, trying to measure how long he had just completely lost focus yet again.

"...I _needed_ this, what you said. I needed to really...blow it. I was reaching a point where I was holding on to my answers, and ignoring the questions. A scientist can't do that, and neither can your executive officer. Now I can look in the mirror and reset myself a little, focus on the evidence and the data, make decisions, then be prepared to make allowances for mistakes and new angles..."

"I didn't say you had to turn into Mordin," he managed, massaging the bridge of his nose and forcing himself to listen carefully. He pictured Miranda suddenly prattling on like the excited Salarian did and barely stifled a giggle, again surprising himself. _I feel drunk, except that's hardly possible anymore...right? _Even the sensation of being worried about this fled away quickly, unable to hold onto a thought to completion.

Now she did laugh. "One could do worse, I suppose. He's properly brilliant, and I don't just mean by human standards. I don't know how he can stand to be in his own head, doing twelve things at once all the time. I've engaged him in some technical biochemistry discussions, and I can say that, without bragging, I can stay in it with him. However, I'm also aware I only have one-quarter of his attention and he's mentally doing five other things at a high level. I'd be jealous if it didn't sound like utter madness."

The N7 commando furrowed his brows and considered that. The inside of this UT-47 Kodiak shuttle bay is about 4.4 by 3.6 by 2.2 meters, which would give it a volume of about 34.85 cubic meters. _I've been avoiding communicating with David Anderson, who was like a surrogate father to me, to protect him from political exposure to a compromised Cerberus traitor. Does he know that or is he just hurt right now? I hate the music that was preloaded into the sound system in my cabin. What kind of fish should I get for the tank? Would Thessian Sunfish tell Jack that I still love Liara? Except I can't do that. Liara has moved on without me and has new responsibilities, I needed to let go - I'm the one out of step with time, not her. She did the right thing. She mourned, she healed, she lived. I need to respect that._

Miranda leaned back now, against the shuttle wall, and blew out a calming breath. Shepard leaned back with her, matching her posture and blinking his eyes rapidly as if he had just caught himself falling asleep. "Shepard, thank you. For Oriana. And I don't mean just helping, because you do that, you help anyone you can. For after that. You...I mean, I was going to _walk away_ from her, and then what? I would have waited for the right time, the perfect time, to meet her someday, and that may never have happened. What you said to me was...so perfect."

She peered at him sideways, and met his eyes, her ice-blue ones as warm as they could physically manage. "You are a most unusual soldier, Shepard. You've been enormously diplomatic and shown tremendous empathy all your life, and I would know - I studied you intently for those two years, trying to understand the man I was putting back together."

_My God, she has gorgeous eyes._ Shepard shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed by the praise and frank analysis - which didn't escape her notice. He also was processing an imagined visual montage of himself being grown, gram by gram, from a shriveled hunk of remains under her watchful eye. She'd know every inch of his body better then he himself did. _That's unsettling. Or interesting. No. Unsettling._

She shook her head again, and offered a half-smile, looking surprised at herself. "I'm being overly familiar. My emotions are a little out of control right now, it's been a day of tremendous lows and highs for me."

Shepard gave her a half-grin and reached for a joke he'd thought of earlier, "Oriana is a beautiful young woman. I guess you used to be quite pretty, also." Images of young Miranda, using a placeholder of the recent view of Oriana, being demeaned and shrieked at by an unseen father, played through his mind. _That same look on her face as from today, when it was me screaming at her._ The guilt that washed over him was chilling, and his posture slumped.

Miranda rolled her eyes dramatically, a hint of physical humor she didn't show often. "Bastard. She's not identical, I said. More like a fraternal twin, I suppose, and she's different in many ways. She's extremely intelligent, of course..."

"Oh, of course." She ignored him. _What's it like to have a sibling? If I had a sister, would she be like me in some ways? What would a female version of me be like...would she be sitting here right now in N7 armor, back from the dead, thinking of what it would be like to be a man? I'm thinking in circles. Am I sick? Is this what crazy feels like?_

"...she plays tennis, and the violin, and she made jokes - with a really clever one about a composition by Hummel - in the short time I was talking to her. Here we were, packing up her things to move her into a new life with only hours of warning, and she was being humorous. Nothing like me at all in that regard." Miranda's eyes were sparkling with pride now.

"I love jokes about Hummel," Shepard replied absently, starting to rub his temples with his armored hands, until his left one protested sharply. _Broken knuckle, right._

Miranda arched a perfectly shaped brow at him. "Honestly, I'm surprised you're able to use a fork and knife properly, so I won't pretend that you might be serious."

* * *

In the front of the shuttle, Jack seethed in jealous hatred. _Fucking buddies now. Making jokes and...and teasing each other. Bitch._ She turned back to the front and caught Thane looking at her again, expressionless as was typical for him, and his rough, buzzing voice was low.

"Do not be fooled into taking this personally, Jack. Shepard seeks to make an emotional connection with everyone on his crew. It's his way, and he knows no other. He is not displaying preference."

"What? I don't give a shit what he does. Why would I care?" Her eyes narrowed as if daring him to say something to push the issue.

"As you wish."

"Like he talks to you like that, gets all in your shit."

Thane was silent for several long seconds, while Jack's expression became increasingly uncertain. He blinked again, and tilted his head slightly.

"He..." A pause. "Yes. I spoke of things I did not expect to be forthcoming about. His reputation as a battlefield destroyer, empathic diplomat, and merciful peace-maker are all richly deserved. An unusual soldier. An unusual man."

Jack leaned back in her chair, folded her arms, and huffed in frustration. "He's a fucking weirdo is what he is."

Thane's mouth was touched by a ghost of a smile. "Yes."

* * *

"Captain Kirrahe!" The last thing she would have expected was a salarian who wasn't even a member of Systems Alliance on a secure channel to The Villa, but if she had to pick one salarian to be surprised by, it would be this one. "I didn't know what to expect, but this is a pleasant surprise, sir."

Kirrahe's face crinkled into a smile, clearly pleased with the warm reception. "Chief Williams, good to see you, also. It's been a long time." His face instantly twitched as if he regretted his words, as the last time they had seen each other was at Shepard's funeral. As a gesture to Shepard's species-bridging inclinations, his pallbearers had been notable soldiers of each of the council races. Kirrahe had been granted the unquestioned honor of being the representative of his entire race, for bearing the empty coffin of the pride of humanity.

Ashley nodded in understanding. "Under better circumstances, this time."

The STG officer rubbed the back of his neck with his long-fingered hand, hesitant in his response. "Yes, yes. Not by much, perhaps."

At those words, Ashley's warm smile faded.

* * *

Miranda found stepping out into the _Normandy's_ docking bay to be even more of a relief than usual. She was eager to return her office in order to monitor progress on the contracted upgrades they had arranged for, during their extended stay in the orbit of Illium.

Briefly pausing, Miranda endured Kelly's traditional post-combat mission greeting - usually involving a hug when possible - that she always did for incoming shuttles. The redhead seemed generally back to her old self, evidently having had a good nap and a shower.

Extracting herself and smiling politely, the Cerberus operative had not even reached the elevator when, via her omni-tool, she had already arranged a meeting between herself, Joker, Garrus, Kenneth Donnelly, and Gabby Daniels. The doors opened and she stepped inside, followed by Shepard. Jack remaining behind, pretending to fiddle with her shotgun to look busy. Thane was still being detained by Chambers - too polite to resist - and Jack feigned some sort of issue with her shotgun that needed her attention. The convict always found a reason to skip elevator rides with the _Normandy_ XO.

Shepard leaned against the wall of the lift as if weary, his head back and his eyes closed. "Miranda, after your..."

Miranda waited, then looked at him as the pause lengthened for an unnatural amount of time. Her brow furrowed as she filled in for him, "Engineering meeting, Commander?"

Shepard nodded, not opening his eyes, his helmet tucked under his right arm. "Right. My cabin for a situation update. After. With the results."

"Yes, Commander." Miranda considered that the commander must be exceedingly tired, as he was acting quite oddly.

* * *

"Welcome back, Commander."

He shut his eyes and leaned back against his own door that had just closed behind him. "Thanks, EDI. No disturbances...for thirty minutes."

"Of course. Logging out."

A slow removal of battered armor, mostly one-handed, and he was taking a cool and careful shower. Leaning his good hand against the wall, he held his head under the water, watching the water swirl into the drain below him, his mind racing through ideas and memories, sounds and tastes, and the echoes of failures and successes, never pausing to take hold, and wishing he could make it all stop. He slapped the temperature lever, setting it to cold, and gritted his teeth as the icy water poured over him.

* * *

Jack took a deep breath to steady her nerves and jabbed her finger on the entry sensor outside of The Loft, as some of Shepard's crew called his cabin. _Better just to get this shit over with. _The panel flashed red but neither buzzed denial or chimed acknowledgement.

"What the f...hey, computer...is this thing fucked or something?"

"Hello, Miss Jack. I do not think the panel is experiencing the past tense of having engaged in sexual activity, however I can check the logs for the last 10 standard days to ensure accurac..."

"For fuck's sake, I mean is it _broken_?" _I just goddamn well know this computer is fucking with me._ _Which means it might be awake or whatever the fuck you call it._ _And that is just awesome because if we piss it off it might airlock us while humming fucking circus music, if it goes all the way 100% batshit murderous crazy._

"Negative, it is working as intended. Commander Shepard requested a specific time of privacy from interruption, which I will not override unless a ship-wide emergency takes place. That has not occurred, and the duration has not expired."

The biotic put her hands on her hips, and took a deep, hopefully calming breath. "And how long is _that_?"

"Commander Shepard requested a duration of thirty minutes."

"I _mean_, how much time is left?" _Jesus Christ._

"Two minutes and fourteen seconds."

"So I guess I'll just stand here like a fucking moron then."

"You may stand in your current position by whichever manner you choose, Miss Jack."

_Argh._

* * *

_"Now?"_

"Four more seconds, Miss Jack. Thank you for your patience."

The biotic closed her eyes, took a deep breath _yet again_, and reminded herself that blowing a hole through the side of the ship would be a poor decision and that the fucking AI would likely not even feel it. She jabbed the panel again, and it chirped and turned green. To her surprise, the door slid open immediately, meaning Shepard had, at some point, granted her residency access. _What the fuck, when did he do that...and why?_

Suspicious, she carefully stepped in, taking care to not make excessive noise with her boots. Her eyes were drawn to the far end of the - unexpectedly large - captain's loft, where Shepard stood. Wearing only black underwear and dripping with water, he was next to his bed and facing away from her. Wet footprints led away from him to the shower, and halfway in between lay a towel. His posture was slightly leaned forward, and with his arms drawn in tightly, as if he was holding his face. She stepped closer until she was merely feet behind him.

"Shepard?". Drops of water fell down his broad back; muscled, smooth, unscarred, perfect. She hesitantly reached out and her fingers grazed the back of one shoulder...he was cold, _extremely_ cold.

"Shep?"

Stepping closer, she placed one hand on top of his left shoulder, and gave him a light shake. He finally reacted; giving a violent shiver, and turned his head enough to look at the inked fingers touching him.

"Jack?"

"Yeah. You, uh...ok?"

He didn't respond. She squeezed his shoulder again, and he twitched as if jarred awake. With a hesitant step forward, he sat heavily on the bed, before answering between clenched teeth.

"No."

His eyes rolled back, and he fell limply to his side.

* * *

"With all due respect, Captain. That is bullshit. This is...unthinkable. He personally made a decision to save the Council, after they ignored him repeatedly and came damn close to calling him a liar...by spending the lives of human soldie..."

Kirrahe held up his hands in surrender, "Chief..I know. I know. And it may be hard to believe, but the Council knows, as well. They often can't express what they do and don't know, because everything they do is politically accountable and has to be defended. Valern and I had, hmm, 'heated discussions'. In short, I came around to what they were onto. They are.._concerned_ that Shepard is already, or may become, _fully compromised_ by Cerberus. Currently, he has Spectre status, and that certainly was not announced publicly. He met with the Council about one month ago, and they concluded he has a certain kind of freedom right now. He can operate in the Terminus system without official complications. Free of the 'red tape' and media frenzy if he were under Alliance or Council command."

"On the other hand, his free reign right now is troublesome...so there has to be a contingency plan. Normally, the only way you bring in a rogue Spectre is with another Spectre, much like Shepard himself took down Saren. There are no Spectres in existence that have a personal relationship with him. So there were concerns that such an action would lead to many deaths, given what appears to be solid Cerberus backing and a competent team."

"So they'll send his friends and hope he comes quietly", Ashley butted in.

Kirrahe nodded reluctantly. "Yes. It is distasteful to play on his loyalties. However, the alternative is worse. Would you rather they send someone else, I had to ask myself? Regardless, such a decision has not been made, it's merely a contingency plan. This is a joint STG and Alliance operation that is deeply buried, and your recent N1 qualification makes you eligible - as well as your friendship with Shepard. I assume...you are still on good terms? I understand you met him on Horizon."

Ashley folded her arms across her chest defensively and rocked back a step, looking away. "I...said some things. I didn't know he was alive until I ran right into him, I wasn't prepared emotionally. It was tough. Yeah, I said some things. Pretty sure he left there with some hurt feelings, but...yeah. I know if it came down to it, we're friends." _He's still not written me back._

"Good. Him and I should be on good terms as well, after the events of Vir..." Kirrahe stopped himself as Ashley's eyes came back up to him. "Yes, well. Let's not speak of that. A terrible day for all involved. But I feel he thinks well of me, and I him. I'm inviting you to join me in this, Chief. We have a small team from both our races, and a converted private vessel. We'll shadow the movements of his ship as best possible to be available on short notice. If they are in grave need of help, we may assist. I insisted on this as a condition of agreeing to this entire unpleasant business. We're not going to go all that way, just to sit by as..."

Ashley's stomach twisted as a memory leapt to the forefront. "As I watch another _Normandy_ burn."


	22. Machinehead

Tapping her foot impatiently on the floor, Miranda waited for the elevator to arrive. She took a moment to savor the irony that they had just spent a great deal of Cerberus credits on multiple upgrades to the _Normandy_ while in Illium orbital drydock, and yet again nobody had thought to re-engineer the elevator. She was well aware that there was an odd and grudging respect for the damn thing running through the crew, as if the under-engineered thing had a certain amount of charm and upgrading it would steal the soul out of the ship. People were truly odd somet..._ah, here we are._

The doors slid open, and she stepped into the empty cube. As she tapped the panel for the top floor, inhabited only by The Loft, she frowned as she noticed a small puddle of water on the elevator floor. _Odd._

A long and somewhat creaky minute later, and she stood at the door of Shepard's cabin. She was reaching out to tap the panel...

"Hello, Miss Lawson. Commander Shepard is not currently in his cabin."

"Really? He asked me to meet him here."

"I believe his departure was unplanned. He has been escorted to medical by Miss Jack and Dr. Chakwas."

* * *

"Help me put him up on the bed here, careful."

"Yeah yeah, I'm not stupid, ok?"

Together, the collected doctor and the stressed and panting biotic wrestled the heavy soldier onto the elevated white bunk with some grunting and straining. Both of the women were more slender than average; the doctor tall and thin, the biotic shorter and even more so.

"Fuck, he's heavier than both of us combined," gasped Jack as she leveraged his torso into the center of the bed. Normally, clawing and groping at his naked, muscular chest would have been high on her fun-to-try list; however, currently he was cold and clammy, and nearly unconscious. It was like grappling with a corpse.

Shepard was awake but not responding to their actions. His eyes were aimlessly twitching about without focus, and his mouth was ajar with the occasional low groan emitting from him.

The convict heaved a breath as she straightened up and stretched her back. The doctor peered into Shepard's eyes, asking him to respond with blinking or hand movements at her prompting, but none of her challenges met with success.

"Jack, hit the windows. That button...no. Over there. How long has he been like this?" The biotic pressed the indicated sensor and the three medbay windows went from transparent to opaque, blacking out the small group already standing and staring from the mess table outside.

"I dunno! I went to his cabin to talk to him and found him like this. I think he got out of the shower and just...stopped. He was standing in the center of his room like..._this_, cold as hell. He's so fucked up I think he showered in his underwear. He talked to me for a sec, but only after I poked his shoulder."

"Had he been acting oddly before this? He's been off the ship for over 48 hours, and I've not spoken to him for a few days before that, even."

"Yeah, he has kinda, I guess. He lost his shit a few...his _temper_ I mean..." Jack clarified at the doctor's questioning look, "...and he usually doesn't do that, even when he's got reason. And...I dunno, I wasn't with him the whole time. But that's all I know." Jack rubbed her hands together as she spoke, looking distressed as her eyes darted about the room.

"I know you hate hospitals and the like, Jack. Understandably, I might add. You can go, it's ok. I don't think there's anything you can do right now." As she spoke, Chakwas was arranging equipment and moving some of it closer to Shepard, including some sort of a white half-moon machine that she placed close to his head, partially enveloping it.

"Uh, right. Ok. I'll wait outside, I guess." Chakwas paused a moment and looked at Jack as she walked out of the room, as she had expected Jack to eagerly flee back down to the pit of the ship. Instead, the tattooed convict looked reluctant to leave, and even glanced back at Shepard once, but noticed Chakwas watching her and quickened her pace, vanishing out the door as it slid closed behind her. _Well, that's very interesting._

Jack stopped just outside the door, ignored the assorted Cerberus crewman and put her back to the wall, sliding down to the floor to sit. Thirty seconds later, a familiar click-click-click of heels preceded Miranda Lawson as she rounded quickly out of the hallway coming from the elevator, her omni-tool still aglow. Without sparing Jack a glance, she burst into Medical Bay, and while the door remained open, Jack heard, "What's happening? How long has he been here? Why wasn't I told? What's the situati..." The door closed behind her, and Jack rolled her eyes. _Maybe the doc will punch her right in the perfect little nose._

The convict felt her stomach churning with worry. _There's not a goddamn thing I can do to help._ She felt stupid and useless. Less than a minute later, Mordin trotted up to the medbay door also, which swished open for him. Unable to stand it anymore, Jack rose and stepped in just behind him, sliding to the side and entering into the room as little as possible.

Miranda was leaning over Shepard's face, watching his eyes twitch. "He can't even see me right now," she said mostly to herself. The operative took his chin in her hand and moved his head side to side as she peered closely at him, then traced one finger down his left jaw line. "Hmph. Facial scars are completely gone." Despite the clinical nature of the examination, seeing Miranda with her hands on Shepard was making Jack grind her teeth in annoyance. The Cerberus operative straightened, then her narrowed eyes traveled over Shepard's body entirely. "_All_ of his reconstruction scars are gone, come to think of it."

Mordin leaned over also, peered into Shepard's left eye, and clucked to himself quietly. "Catatonic. Head injury? Neurotoxin? Seizure...? Will prepare neuroimaging scanner."

Jack heard Dr. Chakwas absently make a noncommittal noise as she fiddled with some piece of equipment the biotic didn't recognize, but she addressed Miranda as if Mordin had not spoken. "Might be for the best...before you fine Cerberus people got your hands on him, he was quite the mess of them. He wasn't going to be in fine shape in his golden years."

"I never saw them first hand, but we did manage to acquire his old medical records. Many of them yours, of course." Miranda looked up at Chakwas in time to intercept her offended look. "What? We'd be a poor 'terrorist organization' if we didn't have a few moles here and there in the Alliance. Besides the point now, but here, look at him, he looks like a...retouched photograph. There isn't a mark anywhere."

Chakwas paused, as her eyes skimmed over him, and she frowned in displeasure. "Except for his facial features and his general shape, he looks like a different person to me."

Miranda nodded. "This should not be - we were not far enough along in the healing process, he should have scars...different ones, I mean, from the process. It was our intention to heal those away, and then...potentially, re-introduce his old ones as accurately as possible, at least superficially. Just so he'd be comfortable, mentally, in his own skin, helping him connect to his past. He must feel like he's living inside a stranger right now..."

Ignored in the corner, Jack spun and quietly left the room - holding her hand over her mouth as she nearly retched in horror.

Seeing them clinically dissect Shepard with their words, powering her own memories of being strapped to tables while Cerberus technicians hovered over her - conversing about the implants they were ripping out or shoving into her, ignoring her screams and curses.

They didn't even bother gag her, as they found that taking no notice of her, drove her even more insane with rage than any attempt to silence her.

And now she knew, finally, just how unnatural his existence was. It was too much, too much to stand for another instant. The distant knowledge that Cerberus had rebuilt him from scraps, was now full in her face and it churned her stomach.

Once out the door, she roughly hit the corridor wall and slid down until she was sitting, gasping for air and waiting for the room to stop spinning. _Go ahead and stare at me, you Cerberus fuckers. _Instead, the gathered small crowd of several crewmen at the mess table pointedly looked away and talked in low tones.

* * *

"Unexpected..." Miranda reached in and felt around Shepard's neck, both hands feeling the base of his skull, her expression thoughtful. Then, clinically, she lifted his arm and examined his left shoulder joint closely with both eyes and fingers, pressing into the flesh and then stroking along slowly, as if looking or feeling for something she was unable to find. She repeated the process on his torso, before sliding hand under him and felt a certain spot near the small of his back. She didn't notice the eyes from the far corner glittering with indignation.

Dr. Chakwas finally broke in. "I assume you're checking for other scar tissue that you're expecting to be in certain areas?"

Miranda chewed her bottom lip in either confusion or concern. "I don't know how familiar you are with the details, but the most effective way to re-grow his missing parts was to do them all in parallel but separately, then join them after they were partially ready...and yes, I'm fully aware that it sounds like a horror movie made real, but it was the logical way to proceed. Regardless, he was awoken earlier then intended. A saboteur set the security mechs against us about a month out from when we intended to wake him. Shepard should have been barely functional and badly weakened. To his credit, and despite the pain and disorientation, he was up and using a weapon within five minutes of being forced out of coma."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised. As his former and current combat surgeon, I can say with authority that his willpower and pain threshold border on being a mental illness."

Miranda raised his other arm, did a cursory inspection, and felt over his deltoid and neck. "Oh, this must be it."

"What?"

"Kasumi described a stab wound, this seems to be...here." Holding her hair out of the way, she bent forward and over him so she was looking at where his neck met with his right shoulder. "Looks right...except it is nearly completely healed." There was a tiny white mark that resembled a dash, perhaps three centimeters wide. "In her report, and the police report I pulled, it was indicated this wound was severe enough that the knife was left here in the wound, and must have been about six centimeters deep judging from blood marks found on the evidence blade."

"I see it. Six centimeters is a significant puncture. When did this happen?"

Miranda raised her blue eyes, expressionless. "Last night."

"What?"

"I know."

Mordin looked up from his screen. "Drastically accelerated healing rate unexpected?"

Miranda guided the scanner over Shepard's shoulder, and peered at the display before nodding thoughtfully. "He _should_ be healing faster than the normal person...he has active nanobots to assist with his recovery and regeneration, and for trauma...yes, they'll help, yes, within reason. But _this_ is a factor of...well, that wound looks weeks old, even internally where medi-gel isn't a factor...what?"

Mordin rubbed his hands together in excitement, then moved his screen to the main holo projector, which made a representation of Shepard's body in light, floating above his real one. The split screen showed two slowly rotating brains. One was a historical scan that the metadata indicated as an examination from the old _Normandy_ medbay. Dr. Chakwas had periodically sent data offship to Alliance data banks, since retrieved by Cerberus resources for her move into the _Normandy_ SR-2. The second was the current Shepard, as it featured cybernetic notes attached to the inside of his skull.

The old scan showed a baseline of approximately normal activity, recording and charting transmission, receptors, electrical activity, and metabolism. The current scan showed, on average, readings that were over fourteen times higher. The hologram, as it slowly rotated, was a chaotic fireworks of colors.

* * *

Two candles lit the room in a dull, flickering yellow light, the two contestants peered at each other over the table that separated them. Hooded, nearly invisible dark eyes locked in with deep-set, tiny gray ones surrounded by a black pit. One pair narrowed, the other, twitched. Stalemate.

"Ok, then, _two_ sheep for your wheat." Garrus' mandibles twitched in irritation. Damned stubborn woman.

The master thief of the known galaxy picked up her wine glass, and in the pale, twitching light of the candles, took a delicate sip. She rolled the fluid over her tongue as if considering the pleasures to be taken here, as the turian glared at her impatiently. "Pass."

Garrus leaned back in his chair, and huffed. "You can't be serious. Two well-bred and healthy sheep for a single bundle of common wheat. I'm sure at an Earth market I'd be getting mocked for my foolish generosity."

Setting her wine glass down again, her mouth turned up at one corner in amusement. "Indeed. Which means, you need this wheat so very badly. Which also means, it is in my best interest to not let you have said wheat."

"Don't you need sheep? They're very good sheep. I named one of them Fangs and he's exceedingly loyal and protective." Garrus wiggled the two sheep cards for effect, hopefully enticingly.

"Indeed, those do appear to be sheep of the highest quality. However, the question is...do I need them as badly as you need wheat? I'm already at seven points to your five, thanks to my glorious _longest road_ that you see sprawled before you, neatly bisecting your two territories, I might add."

"A sheep and a rock, both. For one wheat."

"Is the one sheep Fangs, the most favorite of sheep?"

"Yes. Yes it is." Garrus' mandibles twitched. She was going to go for it and he really needed this settlement.

"Pass."

"What the f..."

"Mr. Vakarian, please pardon the interruption. You've been requested to report to medical by Officer Lawson. She added that making due haste would be appreciated."

"Oh, she said that, mostly in those words?"

There was an unusual hesitation before EDI responded. "I am paraphrasing."

"Yes, I bet. Excuse me, Land Baron Kasumi, but duty calls. Leave the board and we can resume later."

"Have fun with Miranda. I'll be here admiring my road, which is so _very_ long."

"Bitch."

* * *

Garrus' first clue that something out of the ordinary was happening was that the three windows that looked into Medical Bay were electronically blacked out, which usually only happened when there was a resident patient in for treatment. He had firsthand knowledge of this, having _been_ that patient twice already on the SR-2. The second clue was that Jack was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the door, her back to the wall and peering into the datapad on her lap as she tapped characters with a serious face. At his approach, she looked up at him.

"Hey Garrus," she said mildly, her face oddly passive.

_Huh._ "Hey Jack. What's going on here?"

"Shepard is...I dunno, fucked up in the head, he was standing in his room just...anyway, it freaked me out...got him down here but all that doctor shit going on in there, I can't handle, so I'm waiting. Bitch and Doc and Mordin are in there using a lot of big words."

Under different circumstances, it would have amused him how easily he mentally translated "bitch" to "Miranda" without any other clues. _Ok, strangely normal person who looks just like Jack, thank you for the update._ "Uh, ok. I guess Miranda wanted me for something, so...right. I'll let you know if there's anything new." _What the hell happened to Shepard?_

* * *

Dr. Chakwas looked up from a scanner she was playing over Shepard's hips and legs. "Same here, no scar tissue or hint of his reconstruction at all, other than the intended changes such as cybernetics and the synthetic bone weave. All of the soft tissues are perfect, beyond your stated expectations."

Miranda was looking at a datapad, swiping her hand over it as image-chart-image-chart sequences flew past. "It's like he's...super-healed. He's like Grunt was when he emerged from the tank - a newborn adult male."

"Whoa, what happened here?" Garrus was in the doorway, looking at Shepard on the diagnostic table, who was immobile except for small movements of his head, his closed eyes flickering as if dreaming intensely. The scanner arm connected to the table passed over him repeatedly as it queued through the requested scans the three attending figures had requested.

Mordin had one arm folded across his chest, the other tapping his chin. "Fascinating. Implications widespread. Immune system compromised? Past exposures reset, possibly. Aging process? Although fully matured, lifespan clock may be set to zero. Could have long life ahead of him." The salarian twisted one of the screens and played back several pages of scans. "Broken bone in left hand, unaffected by advanced healing, other than surrounding soft tissue show little irritation or swelling. Healing of right orbital bone broken by krogan at Pragia healing at normal rate, not advanced rate."

"Is he going to be ok?" Garrus again, looking back and forth at all of them.

Miranda spoke without looking up from her datapad. "The nanobots were programmed to ignore bone injuries, since they're in an artificial bone-weave anyway the likelihood of fracture is low, and if such an event occurred, the last thing we wanted was a quick healing process to begin before the fracture was set and potentially pinned properl...", she looked up at the salarian. "Huh."

"Am I invisible right now?" Garrus held his hand up before himself and waved it.

Mordin blinked, catching her thought. "Nanobots? Programmed for regeneration? You stated earlier he was a month out of being wakened when facility was attacked. It's been a month since that time. What happens when they run out of things to heal? Dormancy or...?"

Miranda blinked as well. "I'm not positive, I'm a biochemist, it wasn't my field...and that particular man who led the nanobot team was killed in the attack like, well, everyone else. Can we scan for only nanobot activity and exclude everything else?"

Dr. Chakwas nodded. "Give me a moment, yes." She tapped her datapad, made adjustments, and moved the new scan to first priority. The scanner arm froze, reset, then started anew, washing a blue beam over Shepard's body as it went.

Finally, Miranda turned to Garrus. "Garrus. Shepard is incapacitated and unable to serve duties for the foreseeable future at this time. Accordingly, I am taking command of the _Normandy_ as of now. Also accordingly, I am making you my XO, unless you object. Further, as I will be assisting in his diagnosis until further notice, you have the bridge. I suggest you address the crew to update them on the situation."

Garrus held up both palms in her direction. "Whoa whoa, hold on a second. Understood, acting XO and I've got the conn. Can someone tell me what the hell is wrong with Shepard?"

It wasn't often that Miranda shrugged for lack of a better response, but she did so now. "We're not sure yet. He's largely unresponsive, and we've had reports that he was acting abnormally while on Illium."

"Poisoned?"

Miranda opened her mouth to answer, but Mordin broke in first.

"No. Something more...unusual. Look here. Nanobot scan complete." The salarian tapped his screen, sharing the display to a large imager that was mounted in the ceiling, which created a holographic display of Shepard's translucent body and skeletal structure that was not unlike the display of the _Normandy_ itself in the CIC.

The hologram was largely displayed static information, with exceptions of a yellow, pulsing glow at his left hand, right shoulder, and - most notably - the brightest glow at the center of his skull.

After a moment of stunned silence, Mordin remarked, "93.9 percent of all nanobyte activity is currently happening in his brain. Attacking it, healing it, fending off further damage? Unknown."

Garrus found he was trying to look at anything in the room other than Shepard himself. This was _not_ how he wanted to see him. "So shut them down. Aren't they simple little VI's?"

Miranda nodded in response. "He'll die without them, long-term, but y..."

"Wait, what? What?"

"Garrus..." Miranda switched the projection floating over Shepard's body to a general view that highlighted all non-organic materials. Garrus fought the urge to turn away from it, there was...so much. Implants, nodes, skeletal structure, strands everywhere that looked like parts of a nervous system. "...he's low-level toxic to his own body. Without the nanobots doing housekeeping, this isn't sustainable."

Mordin tapped his chin absently, speaking quietly to himself. "Short-term, can cycle blood out of the body, purge toxins and impurities manually..."

The turian's anger flared hot at what he was seeing and hearing. "You fucking _monsters_. You've made Saren all over again! He'd never have agreed to this, he'd have told you that dead was better."

At his words, Miranda's face went tight. "First, there is no Reaper technology in him. We were extremely clear that such a thing was off limits, and yes, Cerberus does possess some. Secondly, we didn't intend for this to go this far...but this has never been done before. We thought we could do it, but this whole process was a pioneering technology for a human. We encountered countless problems and setbacks, so what did we do? We found a way. It was this or his continued death, Garrus. And you may be wrong about him. He'd want to come back to fight for everyone, to save people. You should know that better than me."

Garrus's finger stabbed the air in her direction. "_Don't_ tell me what I _don't know_ about my best goddamn friend! We've been through hell together, and I've seen him at death's door before. You hear this..._he didn't think he was above it_. He didn't think he was _too good_ to die. _We_ thought that of him, but _he_ didn't, and you _didn't give him a choice_. Don't be surprised if he makes it far enough and - somehow - finds a way to finish the Reapers, he puts a gun to his head and repays his debt to the galaxy. He believes in _life_, and that means he believes it's supposed to end. He'll just fight the Reapers so they can't do it to all of us at once. You think when he looks in the mirror, he sees a _man_ right now or a damned abomination? Now, excuse me, _Captain_ Lawson, I have a crew to address."

Garrus spun and his armored form strode out the door, which swished closed behind him to deafening silence.

After a moment, Dr. Chakwas cleared her throat. "The problem, of course, is that you're both right."

* * *

Eleven hours later, Jack was still lying on her cot, staring up into the blackness where her ceiling would be, down here in engineering storage. The biotic was hungry, but didn't want to go to the mess hall, even at this hour...too many gawkers milling around waiting for Shepard news. She had briefly slept, but stress still gnawed at her as she tried to process her thoughts. Confusing feelings crashed through her whenever she was around Shepard, and now she didn't even know if she thought he was a machine, or a undead _thing_, or...

Soft footsteps padded down her stairs, barely heard over the low hum of the engines at minimal power. Certainly not Shepard, who clomped around like she herself did _except_ when he was intent on killing something - then he found a way to be weirdly quiet, even in armor. Kasumi maybe, except you tended to just not hear her _at all_. The small form that entered passed by one of the red emergency lights, one of the few Jack had not disabled in here. For an instant, she saw an attractive female face topped with blunt tentacles. An asari.

Jack flipped over on her bed, putting her back to her. "Hey, Samara, no offence and everything, but I don't like people in my place. If ya wanna see me, send me a message and I'll come up."

The delicate footsteps stopped, and there was a pause. "No...I apologize for the confusion. May we speak? I am Liara T'Soni."


	23. Last Caress

_Seven hours earlier._

Acting Executive Officer Garrus Vakarian stood alone in the shuttle bay of the _Normandy SR-2_, hands comfortably folded behind his back despite the anticipation he felt. The expensive-looking private shuttle - no commercial rental for _this_ visitor - was just passing through the barrier fields to settle gently in front of him.

As the humming engines quieted, he felt his mood lighten - he'd not expected himself to be so cheered or excited for this new arrival. As the shuttle door slid open and she appeared, she gave a smile of greeting and a friendly half-wave as she stepped down the short ramp to stand before him as he stood unmoved.

He had, for some reason, expected to see her as she had appeared before, in a modest green and white jumpsuit of humble appearance. Instead, she was sheathed in a two-tone blue dress of shiny fabric, nicely blending between businesslike and glamorous. She appeared both a touch taller and a touch thinner. Garrus reminded himself that on the first _Normandy_ she had been extremely young for her race - on the transition between girl and woman. The last two years had visibly tipped her to the latter.

"Permission to come aboard?" she asked in a teasingly cool tone, one marked eyebrow slightly arched.

Finally, his mandibles twitched in amusement and Garrus bent forward just as she reached up to him. They exchanged a tight, long embrace of old and trusted friends. "Liara, it's been a long time. Warms me to see you again." His long arms went around the slender asari and patted her back fondly as he squeezed her.

Liara wrapped her hands around his slim waist in return, putting her cheek to his chest. "I have missed you, Garrus. It has not been the same without you around." She was touched by how earnestly he had greeted her - his normal method of interaction was to dodge displays of feeling behind sarcasm, but not now, and not for her.

After a moment, he leaned back, and they held forearms for a moment in shared pleasure of company. The list of people they each would trust with their lives was short indeed, but here they were, that very thing to each other.

Garrus cleared his throat, as if suddenly remembering to be uncomfortable. "So...thank you for coming so quickly after I contacted you. I wish it was under better circumstances, but you know us. Stumbling from emergency to disaster and back again. That's kind of...our thing."

"So very true. If you don't mind my asking, what...?" Liara pointed to her own right cheek.

"Oh, this? Geez, one little rocket to the face and everyone gets all strange."

The young asari blinked. "A rocket? As in, an actual..._rocket?_"

"Yeah, it came from a gunship and everything. Damn near checked out on that one. Same day Shepard came and found me, wouldn't you know. After that, I took some shrapnel in the neck - almost same spot - and now have two layers of bandages going on here." He gestured casually at the right side of his neck. "Did I mention that was a Shepard mission too? He brings danger around with him like vorcha and a bad smell. I'm fine, though. Chakwas just declared me mission-ready two days ago."

Liara half-smiled, but didn't quite laugh. "Speaking of this man who is a mortal danger to you...perhaps we can talk as you show me where he is." With her words, her face lost much of its good humor.

"Of course, sorry." The turian turned and indicated the direction to the elevator, and they proceeded together. "Did you bring any things with you?"

"No, I won't be staying. I can't be away from my office for long - my company is a constant commitment right now." They stepped into the lift and Garrus pressed the CREW DECK field on the panel.

Garrus took a breath and vowed to himself to keep this factual and as uncolored by his feelings as possible. "Well, here's the short version. Shepard seems to have cybernetics run amok. The nanobots in his bloodstream, they've - and keep in mind this is what I gathered from Mordin and Miranda while they used _much_ larger words - healed him completely down to his last cell. And now, they're trying to go _beyond_ completely and unexpected things are happening. When he was revived by Cerberus, he wasn't quite...uh, finished?" He shrugged at his own description. "He was supposed to still be in control of the project at this time, right now. Obviously that hasn't happened.

"So he's been - unknown to us, or himself I suppose - self-healing since he returned to the _Normandy. _And again, even Miranda can't possibly know every little detail - the time arrives when the little VI bots in his bloodstream, well, they ran out of things to do, and...just didn't know how to stop.

"I guess they went into his brain and just started...I don't know, they tried to make everything work all at once. I guess he started acting oddly while he was off-ship on a ground mission. Ugh, Spirits. EDI, pause elevator."

"Of course, Operative Vakarian." The elevator smoothly stopped moving.

Garrus rubbed his face with one taloned hand. "Sorry. We can talk privately here for a moment. Some of this is disturbing for me."

Liara looked up at the ceiling, then at the elevator controls, and then back to him. "Wait, who was that?"

"Ah, EDI is...the ship's AI. It's a little blurry where she ends and the _Normandy_ begins."

"I do tend to think of the _Normandy_ as my own physical form, yes. Greetings, Dr. T'Soni. I am aware of your history with Commander Shepard and it is a pleasure to meet you. I have studied the recordings of your university speech in 2181 on Protheian extinction with great interest."

"Oh! I...yes, you...a pleasure...to meet you as well." Liara obviously was unprepared for this development.

Garrus huffed with brief amusement. "EDI, some privacy for a moment, please."

"Of course, Operative Vakarian. Logging out."

Garrus took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll try this again. All of the people - outside of Miranda - that put him together, are dead. And she's not one of the techs that can...reprogram them. The nanobots, I mean. So for now, they just...shut them down, or parked them, or whatever you'd like to call it. The catch is, so much of him is, ah, artificial now..."

Liara was looking at the floor, and nodded silently.

"He can't live for terribly long without them - what did they call it - housekeeping? He's self-rejecting, or auto-toxic, or other pseudo-medical terms I'm making up. They're keeping him in med-bay and filtering his blood, so he should be ok in there, but...he's not, um, woken up and been himself.

"He's been awake sometimes, but he's not _there_. Mordin has been studying the neural activity and supposes he might be experiencing memories - hundreds at once, all of them as real as the here and now - so he can't find his way out. We were hoping you could reach him and, I don't know, show him a path or...ah, I'm floundering here. I really don't know what I'm talking about."

Liara looked up, and patted him on the arm fondly. "It's ok, and you're remarkably accurate. Asari have little issue with mental diseases, as techniques do exist where we can meld and do..._editing_, if I may word it so crudely. It is...not something we do lightly."

Garrus nodded. "We, for a whole five seconds, considered asking Samara..."

Liara raised one hand in a _stop_ gesture. "No. She hardly knows him, relatively speaking. This is..." Liara went slightly purple in the cheeks. "An extreme intimacy. It is hard to describe to a non-asari. It's far beyond...sexual, even. Or anything else you would care to mention as preciously private. Suggesting it to Samara would be...horribly crude and offensive."

"Riiiight. Glad we didn't do that. It may have violated her codes and we'd have had fatalities on our hands just for bringing it up." His jest was meant to steer the conversation away from what was clearly a sensitive topic for Liara.

"Yes, almost certainly."

Garrus blinked in surprise, clearly not thinking he had been so accurate.

"Goddess. He is the only bond-mate I have ever had, and I am terrified. He will have no control on what he allows me to see. We are not..._together_ anymore. This will be like...a forced intrusion. I did not think I would ever do this, most asari never have or will. This...this is wrong, Garrus."

Garrus could see she was losing her motivation to see this through, and he placed a comforting arm about her shoulders. "Liara. You know it's for the right reason. Anyone else might not know how you feel about each other, but...hey, this is _me_. I'd not let anyone else do this, but I know that his trust in you is absolute. It is _beyond question_, so don't _you_ question it.

"You, me, and Anderson. We are more than just friends to him. We are his family, now. No, him and I don't talk about it, but I know. That's why it was so goddamned awful when he died and why we'd do anything to make sure that doesn't happen again."

Liara wiped her eyes with her hand, and looked at him, pale azure eyes gleaming. "You don't sound like the old Garrus I know, when you talk like this."

His small, deep-set eyes - partially obscured behind his tactical visor - revealed nothing as he considered her statement for a moment. "Walked some hard miles since then. Hard miles. So did we all, I'm sure."

Her eyes held his, and for a moment she seemed about to share something, but then decided against it. _Yeah, she'd walked some hard miles herself,_ he'd guess. He cleared his throat and looked at the wall. "Had to do it alone, I loved and trusted you guys - hell, even Wrex, you know? But being around you just reminded me of what was missing. So I went off the grid for a bit and tried to figure out who I was and what I was supposed to be doing. Things kind of spun out of control after that."

Liara wiped her eyes again. "I know...I think Tali felt the same way. We kept in touch for a bit, and actually she did some tech work for me once I found my new calling, but...before long it hurt less to be apart then to be together."

Garrus nodded. "Well, now it's a new day. He's alive and maybe now we can make him whole."

* * *

Garrus stood in the open doorway of medical bay, and with a small motion of his hand, invited her in. He had already cleared the room from the presence of Dr. Chakwas, Mordin, and Miranda, giving a chilled look to the latter as she passed. The doctor had quickly embraced Liara in welcome. Next, Mordin had cheerfully smiled and offered greetings, while Miranda had merely offered a curt nod. A moment later, however - having checked to make sure the others were not watching - she offered a ghost of an encouraging smile, and her lips had moved with the words _thank you_.

The asari steeled herself, and brushed past her turian friend as she stepped inside. Garrus silently retreated and the doors closed behind her.

* * *

"Garrus, a moment please. In my office."

Without waiting for his response, Miranda turned heel and clicked off in the direction of that exact location. The turian vigilante muttered something under his breath and followed, brushing past the curious looks of the crewmen in the mess hall as he went. By the time he'd stepped into Miranda's office she'd already seated herself at her customary spot at her desk, waiting, and setting the superior-subordinate tone nice and early, he thought sourly.

The second thing he noticed was her office. It was _huge_. Garrus, as far as ships went when he wasn't posted on the Citadel or his years on Omega, was used to turian vessels, which had a functional economy of space he'd recognized on the jointly-designed _Normandy SR-1_. On this purely Cerberus engineered vessel, many touches of luxury existed. Doubtless this room had been created with Miranda in mind, and it reflected her tastes.

It was incredibly spartan yet expressed style and luxury via its design and layout, with purposely wasted space all around that made a statement. Space was, of course, the most valuable commodity in existence on a combat vessel, regardless of its species' origin.

Miranda nodded towards a cockpit-looking chair to his right. "Please, Garrus, sit...actually, no, don't. Come." With that, she stood herself, and walked deeper into her office.

Beyond her desk, the office pinched in a bit, and beyond that was...her large and perfectly made bed, spotlit by a lamp directly above it. The turian was just a single second into thinking something odd was happening, when she gestured to a short L-shaped couch that was hidden in a nook, a square table in front of it.

"Please. We should talk." The Cerberus operative gestured to the couch awkwardly, as if in unfamiliar territory.

"Alright." Garrus took a seat, and she joined him, side-by-side with a person's worth of space between them, not unlike how they would sit on the _Normandy's_ shuttles while in transit.

"I...would you like a drink or...actually, I really don't really have anything." She stopped and rubbed her face for a moment, before brushing her hair back, looking stressed and tired. The turian decided to go on the offensive, and say his part first, falling back on comfortable professionalism.

"Miranda, the chain of command won't be a problem. You're in the big chair and I don't have doubts about your ability, I won't be a problem. Let me know what the orders are, and I'll see they are carried out. Crew issues, leave them to me, focus on the big picture without distractions."

The raven-haired woman shook her head and scoffed to herself. "Wonderful. It's been five minutes and you're already a better executive officer than I was."

"What?"

"Nevermind...something Shepard and I talked about earlier today, although it seems like days ago, now. Garrus, you're his friend. No, you're his _closest_ friend." She motioned with her hand, as if reminding herself to not get sidetracked. "I've been responsible for him for so long, and I'm not letting go of that all at once. I'd like you to not be at odds with me on this subject, about him and his health. It won't be good for him."

The stoic turian shook his head. "I can't agree with what you did. I just can't. He shoved Joker into a pod, went down with his ship, and died a hero. I don't want to sound like I took it well, or accepted it, because I sure as the spirits did _not_ and I went a little crazy. But that's usually the way it is, you don't get to pick the how and when you die, and...it's just..._wrong_. I feel like I don't even have to explain why."

Miranda leaned forward, folding her hands together. "We needed a leader for this. And it had to be him. It _had_ to be. Cerberus acquired the reports he filed to the Council that they didn't act on. He didn't have hard evidence so they had to ignore it. The Illusive Man doesn't have people to answer to, voters to appease, he can just _decide and do_."

The Cerberus agent's voice rose in passion and volume as she spoke, her hands growing more animated as she gestured important points she was trying to make.

"We knew about the Prothean beacon, we knew he conversed with Sovereign, we knew Saren was an agent of the Reapers, and that Sovereign attacked the Citadel. Nobody else has ever communicated with a beacon, so nobody else could believe with _absolute certainty_ in this mission. He could and he does. He's _seen_ what is coming. _It had to be him."_

"The project...it didn't go as intended. It was made assuming his body was largely intact, and it...was not. We had to adjust and compensate for every failing and challenge along the way. And then it all went sideways because we were sabotaged, and we've hurt him. _I've_ hurt him. It was the last thing I ever wanted. Yes, in the beginning he was a project to me. A...product. I've been wrapped up in this for my recent adult life, my investment of every waking hour. And I studied every detail about his life, and now, I know him. He trusts me more then I expected or likely deserve."

The Cerberus agent paused at that, wringing her gloved hands, then stopping to look at them for a moment.

"So now, I just want him well, and you want him well. We _need_ to be together on this, Garrus. His body is as much machine as man now, but inside...we didn't change a thing. I swear it. It's him, your friend. Let's make him right. Let's win. Then he can just live and do as he pleases, someday."

The vigilante slumped back in his seat, feeling suddenly defeated, and was silent for a long minute as Miranda settled back as well, folding her hands in her lap. Garrus tapped his taloned fingers on the armor of his thigh.

"Okay. He's alive, and he's here. That's been done and selfishly, I'm glad." _And I love the guy like a brother and father combined but I'm sure as _hell_ not telling you that. _"But there is one thing you have to do. _Have_ to." He swiveled his head and fixed her with his gaze through his targeting sensor.

"You have to tell him everything. Even if it makes him hate himself. Even if it makes him _kill himself_. You have to do it. What cannot happen, is he cannot doubt himself or who or what he is. That's just a different kind of death to him, and it can't be like this."

Miranda's posture visibly lessened before his eyes, and she slightly caved in on herself as she fell back in her seat and her eyes focused on the ceiling, as if she was searching it for answers.

"I know. If...if Liara can bring him back, then...I'll talk with him. Tell him everything, answer all the questions. I promise."

* * *

The medical bay doors slid to a quiet close behind her, and for the first time since setting foot on this new _Normandy_, she was surrounded by silence, and alone.

_Nearly _alone.

The only other person in the room was being kept alive by machines.

Steeling herself for what she was about to do, Liara T'Soni kept her eyes to the floor as she stepped forward and approached the elevated bed of Commander John Shepard, the only love of her young life, and the one she had lost.

The man she had risked her life to even have a tiny chance of bringing back.

The man she had ended up sacrificing Feron for, however inadvertently.

Now here he lay, attached to machines that cycled his scarlet red blood lest he die from the, ironically, very cybernetics that also helped him live.

Liara's eyes came up, and..._Goddess_, even like this, he was beautiful.

A simple white sheet, halfway up his chest, covered him as he looked for all purposes to be simply asleep. But he would not wake from this, not without her.

_Not without...raping his mind._

Liara glanced at the closed door behind her, ensuring that it had locked once she had entered - as she had requested - then gently folded the sheet down until it gathered at his waist. Idly, she traced her small blue hand over his broad, muscled torso, marveling at the perfection of his sandy-tan skin contrasting with hers, feeling the warmth radiating into her cool hand.

She committed every instant to memory, because if what she intended to do in a few minutes actually succeeded, she would never touch him this way again.

The asari closed her eyes, using touch only, and her hand slid over his chest as she sorted through her memories. Feeling the spot of scar tissue near his sternum where a jagged ridge had been - it was missing now, her fingertips told her. Now, the spot was soft and smooth.

She had found it the first time she had torn his Alliance dress shirt from his body. Later, she had asked him about it while wickedly tracing the bump of it on his flesh, using her tongue. He'd laughed quietly and confessed it had been nothing heroic - a broken glass hurled blindly in a darkened bar during his first shore leave.

Along his abdominals, a round scar, puckered at the edges. She had paused there once while kissing her way down his prone body with deliberate intent. Stopping to tease, she had looked up and given him a questioning look. He'd answered with a small shake of his head, expressionless. _Not talking about that one right now_, his eyes had told her.

Later, she had found the bigger, matching one in his lower back, and had heard about how Ashley had saved his life that day. She had dragged him - under Geth fire - back to the safety of Kaiden's shields, before they had all retreated to a shuttle. Ash had muttered something about how he had left a crimson path behind him in the snow, and that was the day she had learned he wasn't invincible.

Now, his stomach was still ridged with power, but it was also smooth and unmarked.

Along his left side, along his ribs - an indentation where a bullet had taken a small chunk of him completely away. _That_ she had found while her hands had grasped at him desperately while he had pumped deeply and slowly into her that first night, before Ilos. She had cried out, begged for more of him, tried to pull him into her, but he had calmly held himself above her, not giving in. Slowly he had fed all of himself into her, and then, just as slowly, retreated away.

For the brief moments she had been able to stand meeting his eyes before breaking from his steady gaze, she could sense his yearning to savor every second of what he had been doing to her, both the sensations and the closeness, the intimacy.

More than once, he'd had to stop entirely, gritting his teeth and himself looking away, on the edge of losing control despite his slow, measured pace. Once recovered, he'd again sink his hardness deeply inside her as she arched off the bed, her ankles locked at the small of his back, pulling with futility to force him to increase his pace - but his strength was so great that she was helpless against it.

Shepard had continued this - in retrospect, an act of incredible patience, she had to acknowledge - until she had thought she might weep with the delicious frustration of it. Her hands had grasped at him there in order to pull herself up and against him, hissing in his ear to take her harder, faster. She was his, she'd told him. She was _his_. He'd finally groaned loudly, and, unable to stop himself, had driven deeply into her with abandon.

At that moment, his control finally broken, she had whispered other words to him. Folding herself into his mind, they had finally cast open their mutual defenses and shared...everything.

Liara shook her head, opening her moistened eyes. The memories were so intense, so fresh, somehow...she could get lost in them, even after all this time. _That_ scar, yes, she had not asked about until much later...she had been very much preoccupied, she now thought wryly as a smile touched one corner of her mouth.

Her hands explored more, skimming over his body. Left shoulder. Base of the neck, right side. Inside of left arm. Right elbow. A dozen more. All gone. His history of pain and courage, wiped away by Cerberus. A broken mind in an artificial shell.

_This has been your reward for being selfless_. _For plunging headlong into horrors that others would turn away from._

With a growing sensation of dread, she walked around the machine leading tubes from his bandaged arm, and stopped at the head of his cot. Liara leaned forward and cupped his face gently in both of her hands, gazing upon him, upside-down.

Liara watched his eyes twitch under the lids, and the lines of stress trace the skin of his face, even as his mind was beyond this material world.

For a moment, her thumb brushed over the flesh of his cheek, and she allowed herself a moment of reflection. Briefly, she considered what might have been, had he simply _lived_, before chasing the thought away just as she had so many times before.

Then, she whispered two words. Her eyes blackened.

Liara T'Soni dove blindly into the soul of the only love she had ever known.


	24. Forget to Remember

Liara swam in the depths of memories, the ocean of a mind.

She flowed past his joys, his peaceful moments, his hopes. The easy things, stories one would share comfortably - over a drink, leaning against a wall with a smile, with friends. Feelings at the surface. Emotions one would allow everyone to see. That these things even still existed in him made her heart leap in her chest.

But, these were not what she sought.

She would need to reach other, deeper parts, to where things were kept away - both from others and even himself. Her descent into him continued.

They had joined in lovemaking exactly eleven times in the one month they'd had together - she remembered each time clearly. He'd loved her, and her, him. He'd trusted her as much as he trusted any living thing. Still, she had never delved into him such as this. Asari couples could be together for centuries, bear many children, share a love that others could compose poems about...and not share _this_. The greatest monsters of her race, the Ardat-Yakshi - perhaps they would understand what she was about to do.

_Today, that monster is me._ _Goddess, please forgive what I do._

Liara tumbled through an orange glow in this blackest of space, surrounded by fading sparks and burning chunks of the _Normandy_ as it disintegrated around her. The back of her skull and neck ached in terrible pain, where she had slammed the back of her helmet into a bulkhead as the beam cutting through her beloved ship had ejected her out through a void in the hull from earlier damage.

Impotent rage, helpless grief filled her.

_You fucking bastards...__**you fucking bastards**__, whoever you are, you've killed my people...you destroyed my home. That's my family! I've lost them. I've lost them, again._

Helplessly spinning away from the fading explosion of her ship, the planet below filled the visor, and the tiny telltale streaks of white exhaust showed the progress of the escape pods, giving her some small relief. Some had made it. Some would survive. Liara had..._what? No, __**I'm**__ Lia...?_

With sudden clarity sparked by that contradiction of thought, she wrestled herself back into perspective.

These were not _her_ thoughts, they were Shepard's memories.

_Goddess, no._ He wasn't killed on the _Normandy_ and then later ejected from the exploding wreckage. He'd been cast out of the ship and into space.

_Alive._

He'd slammed his fist against the release mechanism to launch Joker's pod away an instant before a beam cut through the hull, triggering an explosion just next to him. It had fired him out the side of the ship. Jeff's contorted face had been in the tiny porthole, screaming something at Shepard, the sound stolen away.

Only Joker had known of John's last seconds on the _Normandy_, and he had never told anyone of the precise details of those last seconds. She now had a suspicion as to why. Shepard had died saving him. Joker had lived with that knowledge, alone, for two years.

_Oh, Jeff. No._

Now, it was eerily like watching someone else's dream, except for the distant echo of other senses. She could _feel_ the pain in her head from where his helmet had slammed into the hull, spinning him out into space. A final explosion of blinding orange and yellow behind him, all in terrifying complete silence.

No, _not_ silence.

Hissing.

The rush of air chilling his neck as it rushed from the body of the suit out into the endless vacuum of space.

Liara had, seemingly a thousand times, been in awe of Shepard's bottomless well of courage. Was there even such a thing as fearlessness in a sentient being that knew the instincts of self-preservation? He had embodied it to her; in her mind, he stood upon on a pedestal of heroism. _Shepard leading us against the world. Shepard leading us against the galaxy. He'd do it, he'd get it done. I would put my hand in his, and he would lead me through the fires._

_Panic._

She felt it seize his chest and constrict his throat.

_Fear. Helplessness. Terror._

He thrashed and twisted, trying to reach the back of his neck, desperate to find something to do, anything; his constricted breath rasping rapidly in and out of his lungs as he grasped at every molecule of oxygen still available.

He'd always trusted himself - first his talents, then his training, then his experience.

Confidence unending.

Now? There was nothing to do, nothing at all.

He roared a mindless denial...frosting the inside of his visor with his hot, moist breath. He tumbled into the gravity well of Alchera. He knew the name of the rock he would die on, and the certainty that it was happening.

As he hit the atmosphere and the outside of his armor ignited, he didn't yet feel the agony of his flesh cooking - he felt anguish that he'd never see his love again.

With a wheezing gasp of tremendous effort and the searing pain of the hasty disconnection, Liara backed almost completely out of his mind. Behind her, a void - a jarring collapse of his vortex of memories - filled by the return of her own senses.

_Too much, too soon._ She swooned as her stomach lurched, resting her face on his pillow next to his own. Liara could feel her face burning with heat, flushed from the experience.

He was different now, either from the nanobot activity or the cell-by-cell regrowth of his mind via whatever morally questionable sciences Cerberus used that could preserve memories. The familiar feel of who he was was...was still _there_, but in different order, different patterns. It was so unexpected that she had nearly lost herself.

And _Goddess_, what she had seen and felt...she blinked, the dimmed light in medbay still bright enough to sting, and realized her forehead was leaning heavily on his, her hands still cupping his face. Her legs were weak with the crushing reality of what she now knew.

He'd suffocated, watching the _Normandy_ come apart into pieces.

Alive, he'd fallen into the atmosphere of Alchera. _Alive._

John Shepard's last thought had been of _her_.

There was wetness between the contact of their skin, and she distantly noted she had dampened his face with her own tears.

_Oh, love...I would have stayed with you until the very end. I would have gone out into the black and held your hand until our last breath. But I respected you enough to obey, and I was cursed to live on without you. And now I just can't be that person anymore. We had everything in the galaxy except time, and peace._

Racing against her crumbling resolve, she kissed his salty brow, turned her head to rest her cheek against him, and fell back in.

* * *

Running.

A long dirt road.

There should be sunshine, but the world is cloaked glowing orange fog.

The sun punches through the haze in the air. Everything is bathed in orange light.

Gasping it in as he runs, it makes for a chemical burn in his chest.

Coughing and stumbling.

His body screams at him to stop, but he _will not_.

He can see his house, in front of the farm. Both are on fire, as are the fields that surround them. Above, the evidence of his home's destruction is spent into the sky - black pillars of smoke that vanish into the deep orange gloom.

A charred body is lying face-down in the blackened grass in front of the house.

It's impossible to tell who or even what gender...

No, it still is wearing one boot. Father's boot.

Beyond the outstretched hand is a stained axe and an alien body - a bloody, mangled batarian. Perhaps it underestimated him.

Unthinking, he grasps the charred flesh and attempts to roll the body over as he gasps out a sob of denial. He gags and backpedals as flesh separates from bone like an overcooked roast. He vomits even as he hears a distant shout behind him. He'd never owned a translator and it was not in a human language.

He hadn't known what _batarian_ had sounded like. The memory of the words is distorted by his confusion. _Goddess, I can't...focus, I'm here with him._

The wild adrenaline blurred out what happened next. Even Shepard himself didn't quite remember.

It was night, now. Stumbling through the dense woods, one arm hanging uselessly and shooting white-hot pain with every movement. A slaver had grabbed him fiercely enough to dislocate the shoulder, before taking his father's discarded axe in the face. The now-deadly farm tool had lodged in the alien's skull, trapped, and he'd left it behind.

One of his own shoes was missing, now - his clothes torn and his flesh covered in bloody scratches from the branches of the brush he had fought through.

Suddenly, an opening. Lacking the resistance of the undergrowth, he stumbles forward and nearly runs directly into an Alliance patrol on a pathway.

They bring weapons up and are an _instant_ from firing, before he collapses at their feet. His dislocated arm refuses his mind's order to rise up and break his fall, so his face smashes into the ground - with a jarring shock of senses, Liara feels and _tastes_ the dirt of Shepard's home planet.

His exhaustion was overwhelming as he lay there and simply gasped for air. The voices of the soldiers were hushed by the orders of one man - his voice deep and rich with authority - who gently turned him over. Even in the darkness, when Shepard's eyes opened to slits, he looked different then the others. His skin was dark, and the insignia on his uniform was different than the others.

_Anderson. _With another jolt of awareness, Liara's mind retreated back into her own body and time. _He was the same age that Shepard is now, thirty-two, a young man, a young officer. The Alliance had responded with whatever meager forces were available on short notice, and his patrol was the one that found Shepard. He was the only living colonist they personally managed to save that day, and he took it upon himself to never distance himself from that child._

_Mindoir._

_During one of his visits to my quarters, shortly after Mother died, I stupidly asked about his family - without even spending a minute to check the extranet on the topic first. The one time I did not do my research..._

_He replied, not unkindly, that the only person he had ever spoken about it with in his adult life was David Anderson. I thought, in the seconds that followed, that he might make me the second. Then he politely excused himself, and left my room._

_Fearful of what I would find, I turned to the extranet immediately, knowing he was already a public figure of some renown at the time - my face burning with the shame of my ignorance of the man I already found myself caring for. It only took a moment to find it. Goddess, I felt so terrible._

_He was not quite thirteen years old when the batarians shot, burned, and enslaved everything they saw that was human. Defenseless farm colonies._

_He lost his parents, a sister, and two brothers that day. His home. His friends. His world._

_He lost everything._

* * *

Willing his exhausted limbs to pump faster, Shepard burst through a cloud of concrete dust. It rolled out from an explosion in the street close to him, the shockwave partially blocked by the already-crumbled walls of the brick building he had ducked into a moment before.

Pounding his way up rickety stairs covered in debris, he turned down the shattered hallway, the roof ripped off and open to the smoke-filled sky above.

The sound and flames of warfare were everywhere.

In the corner of this shattered room, between two blasted-out windows, was a teenaged human girl who clutched a battered _Lightning Strike III_ sniper rifle at the vertical. On occasion, she glanced out of one of the windows, keeping tabs on a certain spot.

Shepard skidded to a halt next to her, keeping low as incoming rounds pocked the wall above his head. The impacts sprayed them both with bits of plaster and stone, and sent her into a defensive crouch next to him. At her feet, he tossed a small cloth pack, heavy with ammo and two bottles of water.

"Jamie! Sitrep!" he shouted at her. The explosions all around made it difficult to hear anything quieter than a full roar. On his last visit, perhaps an hour ago, he'd explained to her what _sitrep_ meant. _A report on the current situation, if you'd be so kind, _he'd cheekily said with a winning smile. Keep her calm, keep it light.

It had been quieter then. Now, the dread and preparation for combat had given way to the reality of being engulfed in it. The pirates and slavers, largely batarian, had reached their defences in force and were killing and burning as they went.

Overnight, Shepard had stolen, looted, and killed for whatever equipment he could scrounge up, passing it out to his ragtag collection of civilian volunteers. He'd arranged them into defensive positions in a corner of West Lawnford, which had previously been a charming resort town and was currently reduced to rubble.

He knew other junior-officers-in-training had also been stationed here on leave, but of his dozen classmates, he'd not been able to locate a single one alive in this absolute chaos. An eclectic mix of aspiring military professions, Shepard was the only one coming in the "grunt route", moving from enlisted, to NCO, to OCS (Officer Candidate School), for those tabbed with leadership potential despite lacking a formal higher education degree.

"Sir! Holding my own. I have two batarians outside still alive, I tagged two others before they realized where I was shooting from." Jamie looked to be in her late teens, long brown hair that was nearly black, her body thin with youth. Her nose was longer then what a self-critical girl would likely consider ideal, but it gave her face a serious and intelligent look that he liked immensely.

Several hours earlier he'd brought in the newly liberated rifle - still splattered with fresh batarian blood - and she'd all but snatched the rifle from his hands, declaring that she had been shooting with her dad since she was thirteen. Snapping his head over to peer through the broken window for a split second, Shepard judged she'd spoken the truth, going by the two bodies lying in pools of blood in the street.

The brief appearance of his face brought a fresh spray of inaccurate gunfire, the muzzle flashes of two opponents crouching behind some sort of vehicle. He ducked back down and grinned at her, shouting again over the sound of distant gunfire coming from all directions, the fighting fierce and room-to-room.

"Saw them! Told you to not call me 'sir', remember? Still just a officer candidate! Besides, I'm not much older than you, remember?"

_He had just turned twenty, only weeks before_, Liara thought to herself. It felt like she was in the room, standing over his shoulder. The taste of concrete dust was in her mouth, somehow. Sweat ran down her back. She could feel his hope that his words and smile were reassuring to the girl. He was also pretending he was not absolutely exhausted.

"Got ammo and water for you there! I'm going down to the next room and causing some noise, when I draw them out you nail them, ok? Then I gotta check in on the others, we're taking a pounding on the southeast side, Tavum and Kaentala can't hold forever!"

Jamie licked her lips, and nodded slowly. She was covered in grime and sweat, and just now noticed there were flecks of blood where her clothing had been torn from small shrapnel wounds - almost certainly bits of brick from near-misses fired at her.

However, her eyes were clear as she looked him over - lingering on a bloodied, improvised bandage on his right arm, and another on his hip. Her voice was high and clear, despite the stress. "Don't get killed, Shepard. You've been holding this whole mess together somehow, and we're running out of people."

She was right in that regard. At their peak, Shepard had managed to round up about sixty able-bodied people and arm them with basic weapons from "liberated" police stations, donations from civilians, and what they managed to score from ambushing roving batarian squads.

The bad news was, his success had made the invading force take this corner of town seriously. Seriously enough to reply in force, and he knew he'd lost at least half of "his" people already. He consoled himself with the hope that it was taking the pressure off of other areas.

He nodded back at her, gave her a light slap on the arm that raised a cloud of dust out of her clothing, and abruptly stood and ran out of the room and down the stairs. Ducking and diving out into the street, he skirted the edges of a burning cargo truck and peered around it.

Spotting the two batarians in partial cover, he leaned out, leading with his handgun, and squeezed off three rapid shots that had no real chance of hitting anything. Regardless, they were surprised enough to jump and move to the far side of their cover.

Two individual shots rang out from above.

Shepard smirked in satisfaction and went back inside Jamie's damaged building. He found her sitting cross-legged on the floor, her head leaning back against the wall. Kneeling down in front of her, he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly in the fresh silence - the incoming rockets had stopped for now.

"Nice shooting, farmgirl." This brought a trace of a smile to her, and her eyes opened to slits to look at him, but otherwise she didn't move. "Only a few more hours, Jamie. Listen...we had a radio going for a bit, while there was a jamming lapse - the _Agincourt_ is up there kicking pirate ship ass, and Alliance reinforcement troops are on the way. We just gotta dig in and tough it out, ok?"

She nodded, too drained for expression or words.

When he'd found her - the morning before, when the rockets first poured in from the gunships - she'd been trapped in her father's burning skycar, upside-down and dangling from the straps of her seat. She'd been screaming at her father to please, _please_ answer her, his neck twisted at a grotesque angle.

Now, only a day later, she had hardened her grief into determination and courage. Liara felt like she was inside his body when he looked at her - he was so proud of her it ached in his chest. "I'll send someone up to be with you, all right? I gotta go and reinforce Tavum's position."

Another explosion from close enough that it shook the remains of the building, disrupting his balance and he nearly fell against her. In a flash, she'd grabbed his bloody shirt and pulled him closer, her lips pressing to his.

The kiss was devoid of heat or passion, but full of desperation for closeness and reassurance. The kiss a wife would tearfully apply to a husband who was boarding a vessel bound for a distant land of conflict and death, perhaps never to return.

After a moment of surprise, he stayed with her, neither advancing the act nor pulling away, letting her take what she needed. When Jamie released him, he pulled away just far enough to meet her dark eyes with his light gray.

She'd lost her facade of calmness and her face betrayed her fear, as did a tear carving a path in the dust on her face. "I'm...sorry. Shepard...John. You saved my life. You've kept us all organized...when we wanted to argue or...run away, or...just lay down and die because we were too scared. You gave us hope we can find a way through this. Now I'm...terrified I won't see you again. It's getting worse. More of them, fewer of us." Her left hand was still clutching the rifle, it's butt on the floor between them as they crouched, her right still clutching the material of his filthy uniform.

"Jamie, listen...if I don't see you within one hour, fall back. Get cover, ambush...shoot one guy, fall back again. Shoot and scoot. It'll slow them down and buy you time. That's all you need. Time, ok? You can _do this_. Courage is just holding back fear one minute longer."

She nodded tightly, her eyes closed again, and blew out a breath between pursed lips. "I'll see how many of those minutes I have left."

"Me too. Hey, when we get out of this, if you ever want to be an Alliance grunt - eat crappy food, sleep on cheap cots, get badly paid, and shoot shit up for a living - I'll put in a good word for you. You've done great. You're a soldier already, just need to make it official."

Just as her eyes opened and she smirked a reply, he leaned forward and this time kissed her gritty cheek. Shepard held the back of her neck for a moment as he pressed his face to hers, his mouth close to her ear. "Stay frosty, soldier. I'll see you soon."

Jamie nodded, pressed against him. "Yes, sir," she whispered.

A strange kind of distance away, Liara despaired freshly - even though she was also aware she was experiencing a decade-old memory.

_Elysium. _The official report sprang into her mind. _Alliance troops found him in a bombed-out building, surrounded by batarian corpses. They'd been killed with bullets, grenades, traps, and finally, a knife. He'd been shot nine times. The report said he'd dragged himself into a corner, leaving a trail of blood in the rubble, and sat with an empty gun on his lap until he'd passed out._

_He'd held out for three days._

_Combining his official - and sealed - report, testimony from a few surviving shell-shocked fighters of his original sixty 'recruits', and information from a handful of batarian prisoners, they estimated he'd personally killed over one hundred combatants; and the team he'd assembled, nearly a thousand. He'd organized them into fallback positions four times, directing non-combatants into a gritty defensive force that used whatever they could lay hands on._

_The entire invasion had become hung up on this one small town, buying the Alliance time to respond._

Another piece of information lay at the peripheral of his mind. Somehow, she knew that Shepard had never seen Jamie alive again.

She didn't forge ahead to see why.

* * *

It was becoming easier to navigate, easier to avoid the pitfalls of his worst memories that didn't relate to her, easier to allow him to keep some secrets to himself. It was like peering into a book and seeing from the first page that the contents within were _not for you_.

For this, she was thankful, even as she burned with shame for what she had already done. She bent to the task, and as the hours ticked by, she found herself in him over and over. Memories of Liara herself were everywhere, the remembered events painfully fresh compared to her own perspective.

Memories that were merely fond - a look, a private joke, a passing touch in the hallway that was their little secret.

Intense memories - times he had feared for her on the battlefield as they had chased down Saren; the lovemaking in her room, and his. The night before Ilos that he treasured above all things.

She cradled them in her mind, embracing them to herself - before working to gently polish the sharp edges of them smooth, making them slightly dull and distant. Replacing the burn of raw emotions with a blunted, distant ache of acceptance and the passage of time.

Liara carefully erased nothing away. In time, someday, she held a hope that they would have a time and place again, for each other. She dared to think of a future where there was peace and space in their lives. To live. To love.

The galaxy needed him, out here. This would be his war, and she could not fight it with him the way things were now. A new enemy was hers, one that required her being hidden away and completely focused. The parallel war of shadows and information would help him in ways he'd never understand or be aware of - a secret army that gently lifted and supported his efforts and allies, and suppressed those who would act against him.

Liara could take a certain noble strength from it because, after all, what was the purest expression of love, but that of _sacrifice_?

_Oh!_

Even as she gently pulled away from him, drawing his current self back to the surface, she passed by recent events and feelings.

Like a glass of cold water hurled into her face, she inadvertently ran headlong into the vivid, bright area of his mind that was filled with thoughts, feelings, hopes, and desires for a small, angry, tattooed biotic.

For an instant, before she retreated...she saw her as John did.

Jack's scowl and profanity was not a warning of violence, but a tool self-defence and survival. A shield.

The tattoos were not social defiance, they were a transparent map of pain and insecurities. They were both her clothing and her history.

Her large brown eyes didn't flash with hatred, they glowed with the want of closeness and acceptance that she could never admit or articulate, even if she wished to.

The same natural insight that had allowed him to see the capable, formidable woman inside an awkward, shy archaeologist had also showed him that inside a fire-spitting, hostile convict was a little girl who was desperate to feel accepted and safe.

Then a flash of pounding music, and movement.

Shepard had stared, unblinking. Her face relaxed as all the tension and suspicion were washed away.

Jack dancing, eyes closed to the world, oblivious to all of existence.

Beautiful.

And he had seen, perhaps, a crack in the door. One that had allowed him to look inside and see what might have been. Without being taken from her parents as a near-infant. Without torture. Without control.

Without Cerberus.

That could never happen; those days were gone forever. She could never be fixed, the damage could never be repaired, and that time could never be recovered. That truth was irrefutable. Irreversible.

Almost certainly.

_Oh John, you never could resist the chance to save someone._

* * *

The asari former scientist snapped her head up, momentarily disoriented in the darkness. _Where...? Oh...the new _Normandy_. The medbay. Shepard. _Sitting on a chair next to him, she had rested her arms on the bed near his left hand, and rested her head for a moment. Clearly, it had been much longer than a moment. Wer eyes were stiff from sleep, now. The lights had been on before, as well.

_How long did I sleep? What had woke me?_

A throat cleared itself weakly. Fingers moved just enough to reach over to touch her wrist.

"Lia...ruh"

"Shepard! John, yes. I'm here." She jumped up, leaned over him, and smiled down at him in relief as his eyelids fluttered and his oddly silver-blue eyes gleamed faintly as he focused on her. _His eyes,_ _they are different from before. They are not real, but the man behind them most certainly is. _"Do you want some water?"

His eyes showed relief at her question, and he nodded slightly. Reaching to the next table, she took a plastic bottle with a straw in it, and squirted some of it carefully into his mouth. He accepted thankfully, then spoke with more clarity.

"What happened? How long?"

_Goddess, the last time he must have asked that, two years had gone missing._

"Less than a full day. You are still on your new _Normandy_. Garrus told me you have nanobots in your body..."

He nodded at this, blinking slowly.

"They caused a problem. They have been deactivated for now, until Miranda and Mordin solve the issue and correct them. You will be on these machines in the meantime, to keep you cleansed of toxic metals from your..."

"Robot parts."

Liara's brow crinkled in disapproval. "Shepard, do not say that."

He shook his head slightly in apology. "Sorry. I know. Still...trying to accept some of this."

"You have nothing to worry about. I had to join with you to help lead you back out. The only thing I found in there was _you_."

"Thank you. For doing that and saying it." His free hand came up and touched her shoulder, pulling her down into an embrace. Something about it told her that he was embracing an old friend, not a lover, and her heart broke a little even as she told herself she had succeeded.

A hollow victory, but for her and those that swore to see him through the wars fought and still to come, the worlds could keep spinning. He was still here.

"Shepard, I have to go. I've been away from my responsibilities too long as it is. Nyxeris and the VI's can't be without me indefinitely."

"Still waging war on the Shadow Broker?" Even from his recovery bed, tied to machines that kept him alive, the sound in his voice was clear - he wanted to fight that war with her.

"Yes. I am making progress. I know you want to help, but I am not at that stage yet. When it is time to kick his door down, I will contact you." She smiled against his shoulder, enjoying his warmth. "It will be like old times. Only without the Mako." She felt the rumble of his chuckle more then she heard it.

"Stay safe, Liara. I wish you could stay. No _Normandy_ is quite right without you."

_Please stop talking, John. You are killing me with words._ "I will tell the others you are awake. I am sure Miranda, Mordin, and Garrus can tell you more. And I shall go...and tell Jack you are okay." She was quiet and still against him as she said it, and she felt his breathing catch.

"Shepard, you have feelings for her. That is entirely fine. You and I are something I dealt with long ago." Somewhere between a lie and the truth, that. "I did not want to pry, but it was unavoidable. You cannot help how you feel, anymore than I can." Finally, she pulled back far enough to meet his eyes. "I was at your funeral two years ago, Shepard. I had to make a new life, eventually. It was...hard."

His face pinched in regret. "I'm sorry. For both of us."

"I as well. But I believe she needs you even more than I did."


	25. Planets Collide

It was early in the third of the _Normandy's_ three daily duty shifts - the graveyard of any space-faring vessel. The general area lighting was reduced by half to simulate evening hours so as to not disrupt the circadian rhythm common to most organics.

Four people huddled at the cluttered mess table outside of medbay. All others had been instructed to refrain from loitering around the crew deck so, except for the occasional silent visit to the food coolers, they had been left alone.

Amidst the coffee mugs, data pads, and a few half-eaten snacks, sat Garrus, cradling the good side of his face in one taloned hand, while Mordin paced restlessly about him. Dr. Chakwas dozed comfortably, slumped way back in her seat with a plain white blanket liberated from medbay thrown over herself. For over an hour, Miranda had been leaning forward in her chair, sleeping on the table with her head cradled in her folded arms. Her face was obscured by a curtain of her long black hair.

Garrus considered it an oddly vulnerable act by the extremely private woman, no doubt brought on by utter exhaustion and the refusal to retreat to her office, despite the fact it was immediately adjacent to them. Garrus himself had napped earlier, out of practicality, while the hyperactive salarian hardly needed sleep at all.

The sound of the medbay doors swishing open brought Garrus to his feet, before he had even realized why he was jumping up. Mordin also instantly reversed his walking course and hurriedly stood beside him, as if the two were presenting themselves to receive Liara's report. They waited, silently. The asari walked to them in a measured pace, the hem of her dress flowing about her bare ankles as her heels _clipped_ at the floor.

Standing before them, she paused for a moment as she wiped her eyes with both of her hands, as if struggling to stay awake, herself, before meeting both their gazes in turn as she smiled weakly.

"It went well, he is awake."

Garrus' shoulders slumped as he released the breath he'd been holding, and Mordin's face silently crinkled into a smile as he nodded his approval at the news.

"You should rouse these two, and we shall talk for a moment. Excuse me, I need some water." Liara strode into the kitchen and poured a glass from the chilled dispenser, and as Garrus reached down to nudge Miranda's shoulder, he saw her drink half of it right away, before pouring a bit into her palm and rubbing it into her face. Still with her back to them, she picked up a small towel and patted her face dry.

_She looks absolutely spent, whatever she did, _the turian thought.

At his touch, Miranda's head snapped up in a swirl of glossy hair, her eyes wild for a moment before realizing where she was. Jumping to her feet, she stood unsteadily for a moment, looking both embarrassed and dazed.

"Sorry! Didn't...mean..."

Garrus considered that it was tempting to poke fun at her, but the woman held herself to flawless standards and clearly beat herself up for any minor failings. Mocking her rare weak moments would feel like bullying - and truthfully, he felt it was nice seeing her acting, for less of a better term, more human.

_Dad would disown me on the spot if he could hear me thinking, right now._

Not to mention, she was currently the acting senior officer, and he was the XO. It was his job to make her look good.

The armored sniper shot out his hand, grasping her upper arm to steady her. "Don't worry about it, I grabbed a little sleep myself, earlier. Dr. Chakwas is still out." Mordin moved to nudge the doctor awake, while Liara returned with her glass, sipping from it gratefully.

"First..." She sipped again, and sighed heavily. "What transpired today, it must remain between us. I do not fully understand the Justicar code to an exacting degree, but I would say there is a significant chance that Samara would be required to kill me outright, either now or later." She held up a hand to silence the beginnings of protests.

"Please, no. The circumstances are irrelevant - her code is absolute and all law-abiding asari respect a Justicar's judgement just as absolutely. I would not resist, truthfully, as I have no wish to fight her on the slim chance I would do her harm. Secondly, I am going to visit someone on the ship briefly, and then I need to go. I have a business to run, as well as personal obligations. I would love to stay and catch up with everyone, but there simply isn't time. Please send my regards to Joker and the engineering crew from the old _Normandy_."

Liara sat the glass down on the table, hugged Garrus and Dr. Chakwas, then clasped hands politely with Mordin and Miranda in turn, holding Miranda's hand for an extra beat. "Pleasant to see you again, Miranda."

As Garrus turned his head to peer at Miranda in surprise, Liara strode away and was gone. Miranda didn't meet his eyes, but rather watched Liara walk away, her expression unreadable, before turning away and stepping into medbay, followed by the others.

* * *

Still clad in her long sapphire dress, Liara's fingers delicately pinched the material at the thighs and pulled upward, allowing her slippered feet to descend the metal engineering storage stairs without disastrous incident. Having briefly exchanged greetings with Ken and Gabby, she now stepped willingly into the darkened pit of a deeply conditioned psychopath.

Barely glancing up at her, Jack flipped over on her bed under her simple military gray blanket, putting her back to the asari. "Hey, Samara, no offence and everything, but I don't like people in my place. If ya wanna see me, send me a message and I'll come up." Her voice was neither friendly nor hostile. In fact, the absolute lack of inflection seemed to be a subtle warning. _This conversation has not yet chosen a direction, choose wisely and you may survive it._

Liara, for a moment, looked down at the slender girl with a distant feeling of fondness. She had spent so much time researching her; learning of her horrors, her background, reading her brutally violent poetry with interest. It was odd to finally be in the same room with a person she'd subjected to so much scrutiny.

"No, I apologize for the confusion. May we speak? I am Liara T'Soni."

She knew enough about Subject Zero to know that introducing herself as _doctor_ would be detrimental to starting this conversation in a friendly tone, considering Jack's background. Her mind raced with hundreds of pages of emotionally detached Pragia reports, periodically sent out to Cerberus. They were relatively bland and technical, which made the content all the more chilling. The documents and her extrapolations fired through her analytical mind at speed.

_Poor behavioral controls. Resists instruction or direction. Prone to boredom when lacking mental stimulation. Lack of remorse or guilt. Lack of empathy. Dissociation of responsibility. Lack of ability to form long-term goals or vision._

These were not reports on her current behavior, but a checklist of conditions they were _trying to instill_. Breeding an enraged weapon who could be pointed in a direction and fired, with no thought of consequences.

The reports proudly indicated success at all levels.

For a decade, they'd had her under complete control, instructing her in pain and hatred and violence. Withholding what she hadn't needed to know, experience, or feel. Physical contact outside of punishments, surgical procedures, or combat had been forbidden. Conversation outside of punishments or direction had been disallowed.

At the age of nine, the procedures and tortures had made her sufficiently powerful and unhinged that a technician became her first victim, foolishly entering her room before she had been fully drugged. According to the report, the impact of his body to the concrete wall of her room had been forensically similar to having fallen from an eight-story building.

After that time, any contact with Zero while conscious had required armored and shielded escorts with stunning devices. These guards had had free reign to damage her in anyway that would be considered repairable. Records indicated several volunteers had been eager to do just that. It had all been within the scope of her "training".

Subject Zero had never seen the sun or felt its warmth on her skin. Indeed, at time time of her escape, she did not yet know that stars and planets _existed_.

She had never stepped from a shore and felt the cool, rushing water over her flesh.

She had never felt the wind in her hair; never tasted rain.

Never felt a supportive hand on her shoulder; never felt an embrace.

To escape this life, all she had had to do was kill everything that moved and flee into the surrounding jungle, all while never knowing that a reality without walls and armored windows was a possibility.

A sky above, not a concrete ceiling. Clouds, birds, and at night, stars.

Unfiltered air, animals, insects, a cycle of days and nights, dirt under your feet rather than metal and stone.

_It must have been shocking and terrifying and...and mind-breaking_.

Calculating from the timestamps of her abduction on Eden Prime, to the time when the Pragia reports had abruptly ceased - Liara estimated that Subject Zero had been fifteen years old when the facility had made a single unknown error, giving the other test-children in the facility the opening to riot. In the chaos, an opening in the security procedures presented itself.

Zero had left the place a bloodstained, broken tomb for nearly one hundred bodies.

_That _Subject Zero, the child, was gone. In her place was Jack, a young woman who had been free for several years to roam on her own; learning and doing what she wanted, and who was not nearly the known commodity of the lab creature contained in archives.

_Which may make this conversation very interesting._

She saw Jack freeze for a moment, before casting off the blanket and standing up before her, displaying a black halter shirt with a white skull logo in the center. Other than her unmarked face, she was _covered_ in tattoos. Her hands, arms, shoulders, chest, abdomen - all bore stripes, skeletal-looking designs, circuit-board lines, and numbers in display terminal fonts.

Black military fatigue pants hacked crudely off to make cargo shorts, of a sort. Tattoos peeked out from the bottom of them, fading as they reached her knees, much like the ones that crawled up her neck. Her legs were lean, and pale, but not unattractive. Unlike many human females, her nails were short and unpainted.

Liara struggled for a moment to connect this young woman to the hundreds of hours of Cerberus footage she had either skimmed or studied intently, depending on content.

In the files, she had ranged from a tiny child to a young teen, usually with chocolate-brown hair that ran to the middle of her back. It had reminded her of Ashley, in those exceedingly rare times she had seen the chief's hair free from her conservative military-style bun.

It was also, sadly, odd to see Zero not beaten to a semiconscious pulp; drugged, bloody, broken, and dirty.

Liara realized she had been taking physical inventory of the woman in front of her, and her eyes snapped back up - just in time to see that Jack had been doing the same to her. The large, expressive brown eyes were skimming over her own body before likewise rising up to meet her own.

Even in low-res security footage, Subject Zero's face had been dominated by her eyes and mouth - oversized in her young child's face. Now, with black mascara and brick-red lipstick, they seemed to dominate the entire room. Those eyes blinked at her now, as Jack's brows pinched in with annoyance. Those familiar lips curled up on one side in a scowl, as she crossed her inked arms under her high, small breasts.

In an instant, all doubts were gone. The little girl was standing before her, still openly defiant, and - if one looked carefully and pushed past the distractions at the surface - gloriously beautiful.

With a start, Liara realized she had been staring, and her intended target of conversation was becoming agitated. She willed herself to suppress the nervous stammering of her youth, when she'd put herself into an awkward social situation.

"Excuse me," she said carefully. "I came down to tell you, Shepard is awake. He's going to be ok, I thi..."

"Why me? Doubt you went all over the ship telling everyone." Jack's eyes narrowed in suspicion, her shoulders shrugging up in time with her words.

_A lifetime of being victimized. She'll expect a trick or a catch to everything I say. _"True. I know he has, well, feelings for you." Jack's eyebrows raised in surprise, the words entirely unexpected. "I joined with him to help him regain consciousness..."

At the biotic's resulting sneer, she clarified quickly. "It wasn't my intention to spy on his personal matters, but it was unavoidable to some extent, and given the choices at hand..." Liara shrugged slightly. "At least it was me. We have...history."

The human looked at the floor for a moment, then back up, her eyes challenging. "I saw a vid of his funeral, not long ago. That was you there, right? And that pic of Shepard on the Citadel, after the battle there. You're there too, with Garrus and the soldier chick, right? That's you?"

The asari nodded evenly at this, expressionless. Sometimes, she thought every living being in the galaxy had seen that cursed photo. What should have been a joyous, but personal, moment of celebration was instead a cultural trophy owned by everyone. "What kind of history are we talking about, huh?"

Liara now narrowed her eyes in return, and her posture firmed. "I was on his crew when we fought the geth and chased down Saren. We briefly had a personal relationship, as well. I don't feel the need to explain beyond that."

"Yeah? Sucks that I can't take a hint. You guys break up or some shit? Have an argument over hangin' up the bath towels?" A defiant, cruel smirk hitched up one side of the convict's mouth. Secretly, the radiantly beautiful, well-spoken, and elegant asari was making her feel childish, crude, and ugly, and she didn't care for the feeling much.

Liara's face seemingly hardened into an iron mask before the convict's eyes.

"He. Died."

Jack's perception was that of the air being sucked out of the room, as Liara's voice iced over, and her veneer of politeness vaporized.

"I was on the _Normandy _when it was cut open. I _tried_ to stay with him. He ordered me to assist with evacuating our crew. I obeyed his order. I lived, and he did not."

Gritting the words out through her clenched jaw, Liara's glittering ocean-blue eyes bored into the convict's brown ones until the convict blinked and dropped her gaze.

"He was spaced out of the broken hull as the ship was cut in half. _I saw it myself_, just hours ago. While the escape pods carried us to safety, Shepard and the remains of the _Normandy_ fell into the gravity well of..."

Jack held up both hands, palms out in surrender. "Okay! Okay. That was...bitchy of me." Eager to get away from the asari's unwavering and intense stare, Jack sat back down on her bed and put her back to the wall in a pose of relaxation, hands folded over her bare stomach, one knee pulled high and foot on the mattress. "What about now, huh? He's not dead nowadays."

Liara took a deep, calming breath - three times - before shaking her head. "It is _not_ that simple. I have an entirely different life now. I started over and built something from nothing, and I have commitments. Many of these are at odds with the notion of traveling about, the way I did in the past.

"_His_ life is different now, as well. He used to be a career military man who hopefully had that foundation to go back to. Now he has this mission - and nothing else. The Alliance discredited his findings and actions, considers him lost, and possibly a traitor. The Council considers him risky, and will sever their connection to him at first sign of trouble. After all, all he did was everything they ever asked, saved their worthless, cowardly lives, and then gave his life for their crew and precious symbolic vessel. Even if he succeeds, he will always know they did not support him once the situation became _actually difficult_."

Her voice became increasingly embittered as she spoke, the last words nearly spat out as her body briefly flared in blue biotic light, casting the entire room in a shimmering sky-blue glow.

Jack, rarely on the receiving end of an involuntary and anger-induced biotic display, flinched and brought one hand up as if to ward off a blow. Instantly, the light died, and the asari sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes with one weary hand, even as her other clasped across her ribs and supported her elbow.

"I...apologize. I am beyond exhausted and my emotions are..." She didn't finish the sentence, but waved her hand to dismiss herself from excuses. "I did not come down here to confront you about anything, or to serve a lecture. I have something for you. I hope it is something that you would want. To protect Shepard, I have done extensive background on his entire crew, from afar, looking for potential dangers to him. Him being surrounded by Cerberus staff didn't fill me with reassurance. I investigated you, as well. I...wanted to help you with something."

Reaching under the satiny blue fabric of her sleeve that ran to her wrists, the asari pulled forth a small white envelope. On the front, the single word _Jack _was carefully handwritten. She held it out to the sitting woman, who reached up towards the offering without taking it, her eyes meeting Liara's in a silent question.

"Inside is another name, a first name. Your real one."

Jack's hand froze in mid-air.

"The facility on Pragia did not seem to know, or care, about your original name, and they did not give you one outside of your project title. I assume you took the name _Jack_ for yourself after escaping."

Jack took the envelope reluctantly. She didn't open it, but rather looked at it as she held it in both hands, as if it was a delicate thing. "How do you know all of this shit?"

Liara shrugged one shoulder slightly and continued. "I am an information broker now, and knowledge is the currency I trade in. I have investigated Cerberus data that I have been able to acquire, trade for, or steal. Every organization has individuals who seek to enrich themselves with company secrets, and Cerberus is no different.

"You were taken from your mother when she brought you to a clinic for a normal, scheduled checkup. It appears a single doctor was involved, although it is possible the clinic was complicit, that is unknown. This doctor faked the death of biotic human children - you and four others, at least - by using a sudden biotic seizure cover story. Then, he or she pressured the parent into donating the 'body' to science, to study for this sudden and mysterious death syndrome. I assume many clinics on many worlds did this, as I intercepted Miranda's report about Pragia and evidently there were many, many children brought there."

Jack's eyes came up as she scoffed. "That bitch actually filed a report on it? Sent it out?"

"She did not distribute it outside of Cerberus, but yes - she filed it with a rebuke about improper oversight and lapses of accountability. I do not know your last name, or this doctor's name, as of yet. This happened on Eden Prime in 2165. I estimate you are twenty-four years old currently, although I understand you've spent considerable time in cryo-stasis, so perhaps a bit less by some manners of thinking.

"You may open the envelope, or you may destroy it - that is your choice. I do not believe there is another living person that can connect that child with the name in that envelope; to Subject Zero; to Jack. Too much has been destroyed, too many people have been killed - some by you - and possibly some were _retired_ by Cerberus. If you wish, I can continue to look for this doctor's name and location, and I could also continue to look into your origin. Perhaps you have a family that is alive and well, on Eden Prime or elsewhere."

The tattooed woman turned the envelope over in her fingers, and read it again. _Jack_. The writing was neat, the lines varied in width, as if written with an antique fountain pen used in historical vids. Due to the secretive contents, Liara had almost certainly written this herself, carefully scripting out perfect writing in a language alien to her, one that an asari would most likely think of as relatively crude. But she had done it anyway, _for her_, someone she had never met.

Inside, she could feel the raised outline of another sturdy card, and it too would have a single word written upon it with utmost care.

"The family? No. I can't..."

_Go back to them like this. They lost a little girl. What would they get back? A fucked-up, inked-up, foul-mouthed, uneducated, scarred-up angry bitch who can't talk to people properly without punching them or running away. Dead and gone is better._

"No. I won't do that. That doctor, though? Yeah. You find him. I won't lie though, you telling me who and where he is, you are _killing_ that fucker. I will butcher him in open daylight. I'll make him _feel it_." Her own eyes were blazing with blue light now, as she looked up to the tired-looking asari, who simply nodded once without judgment. Without a word, she turned and walked to the stairs.

"Hey! I didn't ask for any of this. I don't owe you shit."

The asari paused, one slippered foot on the bottom rung of the metal stairs, and she didn't look back.

"I want, or need, nothing from you. You are a member of his crew, and I remember full well what that means to him. You do not know this yet, but you are his family at this moment. Thus, I will assist you as I can. In return, keep him safe. He is valuable; _essential_ in ways you would not understand. There will be times when he will need you, and he will not say so because he does not know how. When those times come, be ready. Be strong."

She was gone.

* * *

The medbay doors swished open and Miranda strode out, with Garrus in tow - leaving Mordin and Dr. Chakwas with Shepard, inside. Ignoring the questioning looks of crewmen assembling for breakfast, the two entered the Cerberus agent's office, where she stopped and turned to him as soon as the doors closed, rubbing her darkened eyes with a gloved hand.

"Ugh. Okay, situation. Shepard is safe; but stuck in medbay attached to machines indefinitely. Nanobots parked and ineffective, both better and worse. I guess Shepard is parked and ineffective also..."

Garrus had seen enough. "Miranda. You're running yourself into uselessness - you've been going for twenty-four hours, including a combat mission planetside. You grabbed a half-hour of sleep by lying on a table. You've not eaten much. Who do you think you are, Shepard?" His teasing tone was not unkind, and Shepard's occasional bouts of damn-the-consequences periods of abusing the limits of his own endurance were well known.

Miranda rolled her shoulders, looked up at the ceiling wearily, and arched to stretch the ache in her back. It would be quite a display under some circumstances, but being a turian, Miranda highly doubted he was a breast man. "Uhh...ouch. I have reports to do first."

"Seriously? What part of the ship explodes if you do these reports _after_ sleeping? Do Ken and Gabby know about this exploding part? Can something be _done_ about this explo..."

"Garrus, I took command of the ship, I have new responsibilities for now."

"Stop being a micromanager, that's the XO in you. You make the _big_ decisions now, and the peons like me figure out a way to get it done. Whatever you can't show me, have Jacob and Kelly figure it out. If it's not urgent, then to hell with it and get yourself functional."

The Cerberus operative sighed. "Remember what I said, about you being a better XO than me?"

"I doubt it, I'm just good at the one part that is currently relevant. Looking after the boss, so the boss can look after us all. All the other stuff you do, I don't have a clue. Anyway, you have one order to give first."

Miranda arched her brows, and placed her hands on her hips. She looked low on patience. "I do?"

Garrus held up his hands. "Sorry. I default to being cryptic sometimes and this isn't the time. My fresh XO status gave me access to The Illusive Man's dossier list - and thank you, by the way. _Great_ reading material for bedtime. A new document came in while you were napping on the table. The person in question just so happens to be - besides a _ridiculously_ good mechanical engineer - the best VI programmer I've ever even _heard_ of. _And_, she would crawl over broken glass to help Shepard with anything he'd ever need. _And_ we know where she is right now. Say the word, and I'll get Joker on taking us to Haestrom. Timing seems...convenient, though. Did you send in a report about Shepard's condition?"

"Well, of course. It's our own damn tech that's causing this. We've put him in this situation...if he'd been away from medical help and not on the _Normany_...Jesus." She stopped and covered her eyes with one hand, the other folded across her chest. "Everything that hurts him is on me, I brought him back to this."

"Yeah, and you might just save the galaxy in the process. Get some sleep, you're crashing."

"Thank you, Garrus. Who is the tech?"

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya."

* * *

Extending his arms in front of himself, Joker used one to leverage the other - stretching, twisting, working out the soreness. Vrolik's syndrome was nearly a full-time occupation in itself, between taking enough pills per day to fill a cereal bowl to the complex chart of exercises to keep his tendons from atrophy - a really fun side effect, aside from the more well-known skeletal brittleness.

Long before he heard her approaching, he could feel it through the floor. Delicate female shoes, approaching with light and cautious steps. He raised a brow, not turning around, preferring to play his guessing game. Nobody on the crew sounded like that - even Miranda's graceful step was heavier, her stride longer, and her boots more solid.

He'd still not come up with an answer when a blue hand - at the end of a satin sleeve of the same color - slid across his chest. An instant later, Liara was leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Hello, Jeff. I apologize for not visiting sooner." She stood again, but left a hand on his shoulder, bending toward him.

_This is...odd. Liara was always nice and all, but..._

"Hey, Liara. Really good to see you. And no, that's ok. I guess you were, uh, helping with whatever has Shepard down for the count. I guess that went ok? Garrus stopped by a while ago and said things were looking up."

The asari nodded once. "Indeed. I'll be returning to Illium now, I cannot stay any longer. I just wanted to say hello first."

Leaning down again, she gave him a sincere hug, and for a moment her mouth was close to his ear. Her whispered words were so quiet he froze in place to listen.

"Do not blame yourself. He does not, and he never has."

As her quiet footsteps vanished down the neck of the Normandy towards the CIC, Joker sat, unmoving. Staring straight ahead, the blood drained from his face.


	26. I Feel the Burning Sun

00:16, 00:15, 00:14...

_C'mon! Fucking. Go. Go. Fuck. Go!_

Ashley's body rapidly scissored in half as she blasted furiously through sit-ups while issuing grunts of increasing effort. When the timer finally expired and buzzed, she was sweaty and red-faced, falling back and gasping for air while savoring the sharp burn in her midsection. "...ugh...ughnnn..."

_426 sit-ups in ten minutes. Not my best. Too many skill training demands...getting soft on the basic shit, Williams. _The tiny cabin she had been assigned was barely big enough to allow a spot on the floor to lie down upon, like at the moment, with feet and calves resting on her bunk, and her head on the floor, nearly touching the wall.

Not a lot of room for creature comforts in a salarian-designed pleasure frigate that had been hollowed out and refitted for military use, crewed by double the original intended design, and a decent chunk of the internal space set aside for a cloaking device. It was - judging from old vids her dad used to watch - like serving on an old human nuclear submarine. The walls - covered in pipes, vents, and controls - were right in your face at every turn. _Good to know I'm not claustrophobic...this would have set me off for sure. _Offhand, she wondered how many of these secret black ops vessels the STG operated - but wasn't stupid enough to ask. _That's need-to-know, maggot._

There was a tap at her steel door - hatch, more like - and at her greeting, it opened. Kirrahe stuck his head in from the narrow hall, blinked, then looked down at his feet where she looked up at him, flat on her back and upside-down. "Oh. There you are, Chief." Like most people who knew her from her old NCO days, he preferred to use her old nickname in more casual conversations.

It seemed the fruits of two years of labor were all coming together in these last two weeks. Ashley's acceptance to this assignment - combined with two years of coursework in ECP*, and in conjunction with pursuing a technical degree, part-time - had led to a recent promotion.

She suspected that her notoriety for being a highly-visible member of Shepard's "savior of the Citadel" crew had a lot to do with it, as well. _Hard to bury the career of a soldier, right out in the open._

Hackett himself (and that was _definitely_ due to her Shepard-related past) had messaged her with news and congratulations on being granted a commission, and said commission had been fast-tracked directly to full lieutenant, based on service and experience.

History counted for a lot, it seemed. Before, she was blacklisted for her family name, and nowadays, the Alliance was falling all over itself to make things right for her, simply because the fates had put her on that damned poster, from the aftermath of the Citadel battle. _Not_ showering the suddenly-famous subjects with praise and reward would have been a PR nightmare. Shepard's death had made her the only surviving member of the quartet that was actually a standing member of a council organization, with predictable results.

At the old house, back home, her room was filled with medals and ceremonial commendations. Presented largely after Shepard's death - not when they'd actually defeated Saren and Sovereign - they'd felt like bribes to ensure her compliance in echoing the party line about Sovereign's origin.

Shamefully, she'd put her head down and done her job. The thought of being drummed out of the service was unthinkable.

Ash, clad only in a sweaty halter top and shorts, looked up at the reversed image of Kirrahe, loitering in the entrance to her tiny room. She might have been uncomfortable, except for the fact that salarians had no concept of a sex drive. _That makes one of us_, she mused sourly. _No wine, no fucking, and a tiny vessel with no kitchen - meaning endless freeze-dried military rations - all combine to make Ash a cranky girl._

"What's up, boss?" A nice side-effect of them being in separate chains of command was that they they had fallen into a comfortably informal relationship.

"The Council has seen fit to deliver to me a 'while you're in the area' assignment." The salarian used the human air quotes to punctuate this, which honestly seemed to Ash like humanity's greatest cultural contribution to the council races. Salarians and turians seemed to love the gesture, especially. If she ever saw a krogan doing that, she was seriously going to lose her shit. "The _Normandy_ has been at port over Illium for nearly three days, so currently, Shepard isn't defecting to the Reapers, as far as anyone can tell." Kirrahe had as much respect for the Council's official 'Sovereign-as-geth-ship' stance as Ashley did, clearly.

It had occurred to her why the Council had chosen two clearly pro-Shepard operators to potentially be the ones who would be forced to attempt to subdue him. Rolling the idea over in her mind as she tried to sleep in her narrow cot the first night on board this little vessel - whose name roughly translated to _Tracker_ - she had come up with two possibilities. The Council was either taking every pro-Shepard resource they had and giving them busy work to occupy them and thus, keep them out of the way; _or_, the Council was giving the appearance of due diligence while secretly supporting Shepard's mission, and were placing assistance close to him, without making it _look_ like assistance, for the purpose of deniability.

_Fucking politics._

"Sounds good, Captain, I'm getting tired of this room. What are we shooting?"

* * *

"Booooom." As the whisper escaped his mouth, the M-92 Mantis drove back into his shoulder and a while fireball obscured his immediate view for an instant, as the muzzle flash exploded from the barrel and lit up the shadowed, collapsed pillar he was using as cover. In the far, far distance, a Geth rocket trooper's head burst into a cloud of sparks and white goo, falling away from view. The heavier gravity of Haestrom made the Mantis a pain in the ass to lug around, but had the side effect of improving accuracy with the sway damping provided by the added barrel-weight. No wavering at all. _Sweet._

"Goddamn, still usin' that plain old piece of shit? Top-notch marksman like you, I figured you'd be usin' somethin' more fancy." Zaeed's helmet visor reflected the blinding and shadowed contrast of the battlefield as he turned his head to Garrus for a moment.

"This basic, yet _quality_ rifle..." The turian cycled the one-shot heatsink and replaced it, never taking his eye from the scope. "...I've personally carried since just after we took Saren down. Heavily modified by _yours truly,_ as well as our person of interest today, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya herself, an engineer of the top order. I would estimate..." The Mantis thundered as it spat flames, and Vakarian grunted in satisfaction at the results he saw downrange. "This may be the finest example of the Mantis that exists anywhere."

Whatever type of geth Garrus had just tagged with a headshot, it was far enough away that the merc hadn't seen it until the sparks and spray of milky goo revealed its position. "This _old piece of shit_ was an extension of my hands, every day, for two years, Zaeed. It sometimes feels like I killed half of Omega with it. Never malfunctioned. Never put a round anywhere but exactly where I wanted it. I'm sure I could get a pretty penny out of Devlon Industries if I offered to sell it back to them for study."

Behind his visor, the merc fixed him with his one original eye while his gravelly voice muttered in reply. "Always nice to have a retirement plan." _I fuckin' knew you were Archangel._

Next to them, behind a shaded chunk of stone, Thane's scoped Viper cracked three times in quick succession - contrasting the Mantis's artillery-like blast. Garrus's visor sensor whirred as it focused far downfield. "Two out of three, Krios. Not bad." The drell lifted his eye from his own scope to glance his way. "Marksmanship is my _secondary_ skill, perhaps it should alarm you that I'm two-thirds as accurate as yourself." Garrus was still working on reading the drell, but he seemed amused. Good.

"Now now...don't be touchy. I brought you somewhere hot and dry, thought you'd appreciate it." Another detonation from his Mantis, an instant to appreciate the results, and the turian muttered to himself. "Oooooh...nice one."

Thane looked to the side of his rock, just beyond the hard shadow, to where the intensely bright light of the unstable Dholen blasted the planet with scorching light. The dirt and stones crackled and popped with the baking rays of a dying sun, and he knew full well that if he offered his unprotected hand out into the light's path, it would be mere seconds before his flesh would be charred to the bone.

"Yes, that was exceedingly kind of you."

Zaeed huffed in frustration. "We gonna sit here pickin' at them until they call in reinforcements? Let's move in so I can bash some flashlights in. Not gonna find yer girl by skeet shootin' all day."

Garrus surveyed the area through his scope. "We thinned them out a bit. Advance and cover. You, Thane, and me, by turns. We see a Prime, I'll overload and then you get the grenades out. Questions? Good, keep it tight, people. Let's do it."

* * *

Splitting his attention over four displays filled with neuropathic and somatosensory receptor information, Dr. Radim Mirko didn't look up as his visitor request chime alerted him to a visitor.

"Enter."

A sandy-haired human male entered, one of his junior researchers who showed some promise. Fresh from Cerberus and eager to make his mark, or so it said in his file. "Sir."

"News?"

"Yes sir. The first twenty-four incubation pods are ready for run alpha, but more importantly, the shuttle with the cargo you were expecting arrived."

Radim looked up, finally. "Indeed? Very good." He dismissed the younger man with a wave of his hand, and turned back to his displays. Switching one to external cargo cameras, he watched four men guide three heavy cases to an intermediate staging platform for external sterilization. Once they withdrew, the VI-controlled platform wheeled itself into a microorganism field containment booth to complete the process. Beyond, four other men in biohazard suits awaited the platform's arrival.

Radim zoomed in with one of the cameras, and despite the grainy quality that resulted, the names listed on the embedded datapad displays of the cases were clear.

Shepard, John

Lawson, Miranda

Subject Zero

The doctor nodded slightly as a ghost of a smile touched one side of his mouth. The dawn of the next stage of human domination would start today.

* * *

The recording from Tali's technical journal played on the speakers around them in this storage room, the quarian engineer going on about radiation levels, abnormal solar aging patterns, core samples of this and that and, quite frankly many other things that Garrus was sure were _extremely_ interesting. Was there any of the physics-related sciences left that Tali wasn't a huge geek about? As the turian shouldered the explosive charge he'd been looking for, Zaeed's shout from behind him galvanized him into alertness.

"_PRIME!_"

_Oh, wonderful._

Over his back, the Mantis clicked and expanded, reaching up to fill his hand as he turned in a smooth motion towards the sound of danger...and promptly ducked and rolled to the side to dodge an incoming small rocket, which exploded into the concrete wall far behind him. _Had enough rockets to the face this month, thanks. _From his cover of a heavy supply crate, Zaeed was already peppering the Prime with disruptor three-round bursts from his M-15 Vindicator. No one soldier was taking the thing down without heavy weapons, but he managed to soften up the shields before incoming rounds from the towering command unit forced him to turtle up with a growled expletive.

Two other geth flanked it; a rocket soldier - currently reloading the launcher from its missed shot at Garrus - and a scarlet-red Destroyer, which was already moving in quickly to close distance. One glance at the flames trailing from the muzzle of its flamethrower and the turian instantly switched target priorities. In this enclosed space, it would be devastatingly effective.

Hurriedly, Garrus tapped his omni-tool and dropped an Overload on it, staggering it momentarily and dropping its shields. He opened his mouth to shout for Thane to engage it _right fucking now_, but the sound of the Viper cracking silenced him. The Destroyer took three disruptor rounds to the torso, and toppled forward stiffly as electrical discharge covered it. The unit's weight crushed the flamethrower beneath it, and the entire unit ignited like a funeral pyre.

The turian nodded to himself. _I can see why Shepard respects the hell out of that guy. No experience with group tactics but he catches on _real _fast._

* * *

Floating.

Still, warm water. So clear that the sunlight drove down through it and clearly lit up the rocks and plants at the bottom in a wavering painting of beauty.

The pond was that exact temperature on this summer day as his own flesh, creating the sensation of floating weightlessly in absolute nothingness.

No water. No gravity. No anything.

Flat on his back, his eyes were closed against the morning brightness, while his ears were below the waterline, listening to nothing at all. He could do this forever and be happy. He was thirteen. His best friend, Neil Mally, was going to be here soon. They always went fishing here, Mally and Shepard. Mom had said they'd first played together when they were four years old.

A dull rumble in the water brought him from his daydreaming, and his eyes cracked open enough to take in the bright morning sky, just in time to see a flight of four craft fly overhead in loose formation. That was unusual, if not completely unheard of. Way out here, in the farming colonies, you usually only saw single craft tending to crops and the like. Perhaps there was an air-show coming and they were practicing. Whatever. His older brother Erik was a big freak over being a pilot, he'd himself never really cared for the idea. Strapped into a chair all day? And, if in the military, strapped in a chair all day while stuff _shot at you_? No thanks.

Another rumble went through the water, and his brows furrowed in confusion as his eyes slitted open again. Six more craft streaked past, and unbelievably, one of them loosed a missile that flew off over the horizon of trees around him. Flailing up and out of the water, he twisted to follow the direction of the smoke trail of the missile.

Towards his village, towards home.

* * *

"Mmmmmph?" His eyes slitted open again, only this time the light was white and relatively dim, not yellow and blinding. Above him, the blurry colors came together to make a beautiful, black-haired woman with alabaster skin and eyes of cold water looked back down him with a frown of worry. He licked his dry lips and a rough whisper came out.

"Miranda."

"Shepard? Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I was checking your blood circulation and filtration statistics. You fell asleep on Mordin and myself when we were last talking to you. Do you remember? Admittedly, it was rather dry; cybernetic specifications and the like. Dr. Chakwas fused your broken knuckle, by the way." She leaned over and handed him his water bottle.

He lifted his left hand, rustling the tubes carrying his blood away from him and back, purified of toxic metals. The hand was no longer in a simple wrapping, but a plastic brace to immobilize it, post-surgery. He put it back down and took the water with his other.

"How long was I...?"

"About six hours. Don't worry, it was just sleep. Good, healing sleep for a change, although just in the last ten minutes or so, you looked quite restless. Dreaming?" The question was light and conversational, as she fiddled and took notes from the machines attached to his tubes.

"Mmm...memories, a nightmare in the making...didn't get to the bad part yet. Glad you woke me."

"A nightmare based on true events?" Her nonchalance was practiced as she tweaked a setting on the blood sanitizer. She was very good at it. He'd not recognize it at all if he didn't know her.

"All of them are. I don't remember the last time I had a dream that was...fictional. That's the second time I've woken up with you standing over me. Had to wonder if I died again." He watched her from the corner of his eye as he spoke, noting her instant of hesitation.

"Are they worse since...we brought you back?" She made a _hmm_ sound and added a note to her datapad after reading some numbers regarding immunoglobulins.

"They're, uh, about the same." A tiny lie, that. There was nothing to gain by dropping pointless guilt into her lap over something she no longer had control of - if she even ever had.

"That's good." Her eyes went to his for an instant, then back to the machine. "Hmm, that was poorly stated; it's not _good_ you have nightmares. You know what I meant. Exactly as you were; that was always the intent. Variance one way or the other would indicate a fault."

"Are we still over Illium?"

Miranda smirked a little, the first show of good humor. "Hardly. We're over Haestrom."

Shepard's brow furrowed. "I've never heard of it."

"I'm not surprised, we're out in the Far Rim. Dholen system."

"What? Liara...?"

"Left the _Normandy_ and went back to her business just before we left orbit. She seemed pressed for time."

"Oh." He slumped back onto the bed. "I didn't get to speak with her as much as I'd have liked."

"She's quite remarkable. It's very impressive what she's accomplished in the last few years, it's rather un-asari to reinvent yourself so quickly, so young. Your death would have been traumatic for her - her and Garrus, they were your closest friends, if I am correct."

He took a long moment to consider the subject. "I've been lucky. Since the day I set foot on the first _Normandy_, I've been blessed with special people entering my life. But, yeah, I guess if I had to say it...with Garrus and Liara, it goes beyond friendship. They feel like they've been part of me my whole life and all I had to do was catch up and meet them, you know?"

"Of course. I'll notify Dr. Chakwas that you're awake and feeling well." Miranda nodded, stood, and took her datapad with her as she left. _No, I really don't know what you mean. Not at all._

* * *

Geth Primes were mobile servers, boosting the capabilities of nearby geth by enhancing their processing power. Standard doctrine was to kill them _first_ to weaken the surrounding support units. Garrus discarded that tactic as he raised his Mantis, and even at minimal zoom, the rocket trooper's head filled the scope as the unit charged into the bunker at a half-run. In this closed space, there would be no dodging the splash damage of its explosive ordnance.

The heavy rifle roared - a deafening thunderclap in this three-walled concrete bunker - and the disrupter round beheaded the bipedal machine in a spray of sparks and oily white goo. The synthetic "blood" of the machine splashed over Thane before he could react, covering his helmet's visor and blinding him.

Virtually untouched, the massive tank-like Geth Prime ducked down low, then leaned in sideways as it entered the bunker. The antennae on its back scraped the four-meter ceiling as it then extended back to it's full height. For the three organics, there was no escape.

* * *

_*Early Commissioning Program_


	27. Down by the Water

Matriarch Livia N'Sen reclined at the edge of the slow and serene river, as the setting star Tasale warmed her with its fading rays despite the cool evening wind. Taking a leisurely sip from her wineglass , she rolled the fluid over her tongue before leaning over to plant the base of the glass into the warm sand. Her luxurious private cabin at the edge of the forest behind her beckoned with the promise of a final restful sleep before she would make her return to Thessia. Owning property this remote, in this region of Ilium was incredibly expensive, but eight hundred years of connections and sound investments made such things trivial. If one wanted absolute privacy, she accepted that one must pay for it.

"Matriarch Livia."

With a jolt, the elder asari jumped to her feet and wheeled on the intruder, biotics flaring to life. There was a young asari maiden in a casual white courier uniform, a small vest over a simple shirt, and shorts that ended just above the knee. Her shapely legs were bare, as were her feet, and beyond her Livia saw her removed sandals on the walkway. She displayed the laughable nod to recent human influence, tattooed false eyebrows the young ones often bore these days.

"This is private property. Explain yourself, child.", she declared angrily.

"I apologize for my rudeness. I assure you it is borne from urgency alone, and once I take a bit of your time, I shall be on my way. The information I offer may, in fact, save your own life as well as many others. Perhaps you'd like to dress before we converse." The young asari cast her eyes down in utmost politeness.

N'Sen glanced down at her own nudity for but a moment before taking up her white silky robe and putting it on, knotting it tightly at the waist in irritation. "How did you find me? Nobody knows I come here, my ownership of this estate is a secret I paid dearly for."

"And it is beautiful here." The young maiden cast her eyes across the wide, slow river; into the colors of the setting sun. "You must be cautious. In this region, at this time of year, there is a gelatinous sea-life active here with a paralytic toxin..."

"Child, I have owned this property for eighty years, I'm well aware of the local points of interest. Get on with it."

The younger asari bowed slightly. "As I said, the urgency is high, so no expense was spared in undoing your privacy in this matter, I must confess. I wish only to provide information to you, if you would be so kind as to accept it. Very soon you are delivering the results of your private think-tank inquiry to the Asari Republic as your recommendation."

"I am. And they will listen, for my interest group is significant in influence." Matriarch N'Sen's chin lifted as she spoke, to peer down her nose at the maiden; she was well used to being treated with deference.

"Indeed, I would agree. It will be your recommendation, in regards to the theory of the extinction of the protheans being caused by an intelligent, synthetic starships known as the Reapers is a falsity. Any investments, research, and preparations for the arrival of such a hypothetical invasion force is a waste of all resources." The young asari's eyes were still downcast demurely.

"How did you...? Yes, of course. Supernatural space monsters are not the way of things, let's not be ridiculous. Is this really what you've come to discuss?"

"What I have here..." the young asari held up her datapad "is my combined collections of my own work, as well as evidence gained firsthand in the field with one Commander Shepard even as we speak, condensed by one Mordin Solis; older data acquired or stolen from sources as diverse as the STG, Cerberus, and Alliance Intell..."

Livia's eyes narrowed. "Doctor. Liara. T'Soni. I thought you looked familiar. Are you still going on in your pathetic campaign to clear your mother's name? She was a traitor to our people, and a pureblood breeder while she was at it. Producing a shameful little embarrassment such as yourself to salt the wounds her actions caused us all."

Her demure act cast aside, Liara's eyes came up and met evenly with Matriarch Livia's. "You have interests in many corporations that deal in primarily high-wealth and luxury demographics. One could argue that even the slightest shift in spending towards a war economy would be detrimental to your bottom line. It would be profitable for you to dismiss the existence of the Reapers in favor of supporting the Council line of strictly geth-related enemy forces in cooperation with the leadership of Saren, the Citadel attack, and vanishing colonies. Every month of denials can potentially add millions of credits into your accounts."

"Go back to your hole, _pureblood_. Or you'll die here and be fed to the local animals."

"My research is real. At the risk of sounding immodest, this information in this datapad...may in fact be the most important single collection of knowledge in existence at this very moment. We stand on the cusp of losing entire civilizations. I will accept your insults if it will contribute to saving our people. Will you even examine this? Will you consider the contents fairly?" Liara held out the datapad with her left hand, extended to the wealthy matriarch.

"I will not. I won't ask you again to leave." The matriarch's eyes glowed with biotic power, and she braced herself for the using of it.

Even as the young asari shook her head sadly, and pulled the datapad back to her chest, she stepped closer. "Very well. You are free to decide as you wish." Her eyes moved down to the base of the recliner in the sand. "You've spilled your wine."

Matriarch Livia's face pinched in confusion, and followed her eyes to her wine glass in the sand. It was still standing as before, vertical and partially full. Even as a spark of alarm surged through her, a sharp pain erupted in the side of her neck. She clapped her hand to the area, only to find her covering Liara's own, the end of a pen-like item being gripped there. _A syringe_, she thought, even as her body numbed and her knees gave way. Liara casually dropped the datapad, and gently lowered the Matriarch to the sand at the water's edge, her free hand holding her at the small of the back.

"Matriarch Livia..." Liara's voice had lost all sense of politeness or deference even as she cradled the matriarch's head genty. "You demanded that I explain myself, so I shall. I spoke truth when I said the information I brought today may save your life. You only needed to cease your self-interest and look upon it objectively. Unfortunately, you chose the path I expected of you. It would have been quite refreshing to see you choose to serve your people, rather then milk them of credits for your own gain, as you have for your entire life."

Livia's lips moved as she tried to speak, but no sound emerged other then shapeless breaths. "Don't bother. The paralysis is nearly instant." Liara held up the empty syringe in front of herself, as if admiring its qualities. The young maiden's eyes were almost sad, but contained no lack of resolve as she tucked the empty syringe back into a vest pocket. "Do you recall the toxin I mentioned, from the sea-life in this area? It is possible to acquire that same toxin if you know the right people, and are willing to look past such small barriers such as law and morality."

"Did you know, also, that on average, seventeen asari and nearly forty alien tourists perish annually from downing induced by paralysis in this same manner? Mostly the young, sadly, who ignore the posted public warnings and the like. Still, as humans would say, _accidents happen_. Especially, as the statistics indicate, when alcohol is involved." Liara picked up the nearly-full bottle of wine from the sand, and poured it into the river's edge. She watched it disperse into the pristine, slow-moving water.

"In three days, I will simulate a malfunction in your cabin's security system. When your security contractor responds, I'll leave just enough evidence that they'll know you were still here when you went missing, and I'm certain your body will be found. I will not leave your family without closure, do not be concerned of that."

Gently, Liara twisted her limp victim's head so that their eyes could meet. The smooth innocence of youth in her face contrasted her deadly, unemotional words."In a way, Livia, I've done you a tremendous kindness. I'm doing all I can to prepare us. Clearly, I'm willing to kill to save lives. I learned the sense of that paradox though Commander Shepard, you know. He has killed thousands to save uncounted millions, even as most of them will never know. It makes a perverse kind of absolute sense even as it weighs on him greatly." With clinical detachment, she undid the matriarch's robe before gathering her body up in her arms again.

"It pains me to say this, it honestly does, because I know it will never be enough. When the Reapers come, I expect planets to fall. I expect billions will die. I expect some civilizations to be either wiped away or to be so thoroughly decimated that they will cease to have a functional culture. You will be spared the sight of these times to come. If you're asking yourself why I have done this personally, I admit it is a task I normally assign to one of my wet teams. However, it is a coward who would only ask of others what they cannot do themselves, don't you agree?"

With surprising strength, the information broker stood, lifting the nude matriarch in her arms and walking into the river until the cool water reached her calves. For a brief moment, a self-mocking smile touched Liara's lips. "I'm sure by now, you're willing to get this over with just to be free of my voice. I want to add one more thing, if you'll indulge me."

Liara knelt in just enough water that the matriarch was able to float limply. She leaned out over her, putting her face over and close to Livia's, and spoke in a hushed tone that was barely over a whisper.

"Your refusal to see the truth I freely offer, to save your own people? The hateful, bigoted words you used against me? I have to thank you. I've been planning your death for several weeks, it has been...stressful for me. I've killed many times, usually in the field of combat with my courageous, heroic, beautiful friends from the _Normandy_. I doubt you would understand what they mean to me. I witnessed things with them I cannot even describe with the emptiness of words."

"I could meld with you, I suppose, to show you the things I've shared with them, but that is precious to me and I would never honor one such as you with that greatest gift. It was difficult and terrifying at times, but emotionally it didn't bother me in the same way this has. I will be candid; I dreaded coming here, the guilt of an action I'd not even committed yet was heavy. But today, Matriarch Livia N'Sen? You've made it _so_ much easier."

Liara rolled the paralyzed elder asari over to be face-down in the water, and gently pushed her away from the shore.


	28. Not Alone

With a groan, Jack rolled over to her stomach.

She'd impacted against a heavy crate of supplies, leaving it with a sizable dent and nearly knocking it over, before it settled back to the cargo deck with a _clunk_. Slowly pulling herself up to her hands and knees, she shook her head sharply, trying to clear her vision of dancing lights and causing drops of blood from her nose to speckle the metal alloy floor. A small screen on the crate was glowing next to her, listing its contents behind a fresh crack in the glass. At a glance, the top item on the list jumped into her mind.

_Lamb Phal, 48 units._

A crate of specialty food. That one was Shepard's. He loved that weird, spicy, are-you-sure-this-is-human-food shit. Jack had swiped a bite from his plate once - it had smelled pretty good - and it had tasted like licking the sun.

You don't just walk into a fucking grocery store and pick up a huge military-style case of ferociously hot freeze-dried lamb entrees - which meant Cerberus had gone to the trouble to pack some especially for Shepard. That was just fucked up. On the other hand, he'd found something he liked. Half of the time, Gardner really blew it on whatever he was trying to make, and during off-hours, if you were hungry, you needed to heat up a prepared Cerberus-civilian version of a milrat*. Thank _Jesus_ that out in the field, biotics were pretty much expected to stick with the magic electrolyte juice and the rapidly-digestible protein bars.

With a flash of bitter amusement, she considered the notion that she still thought so little of Alliance rations, while being a veteran of _prison food_.

_Alright, bitch, pick up your teeth and get back to it._ She shook her head again and stood up unsteadily.

_It will be beneficial to the mission_, Samara had said.

_You have untapped potential_, the Justicar had added.

_I thought of a sneaky way to kill you_, is what she had likely _really_ meant.

The statuesque asari's heels tapped against the cargo bay floor as she approached - her hips slowly swaying in her crimson armor with elegant, unhurried steps that exuded an unchallenged confidence and unconscious sexuality. Jack noted - with annoyance - that the walk reminded her of Miranda, minus the deliberate edge that the Cerberus operative carried.

"Very good, young one. Your output is much higher when the exercise has an element of reality to it; when you feel threatened. I apologize if you are injured. You raised significant shielding very quickly, as I expected. With discipline, practice, and endurance training we will be able raise your baseline level without sacrificing your considerable spikes." The asari's voice was infuriatingly calm, like throwing the most powerful human biotic in existence across the room was an everyday thing.

Jack swiped at her nose with one hand, and flicked the blood to the floor to join the rest. "Fuck you, old lady, I don't practice. I _fight_."

With her eyes and fists exploding in brilliant color, she charged back in at the serene Justicar, a growl escaping her clenched teeth.

The nine-century old asari set her defensive stance, with biotic light washing over her form like water. A thin smile touched her plum-colored lips. "And so we shall."

* * *

The Geth Prime extended itself to full terrifying height after it cleared the loading door, as to its left side, Thane still was wiping synthetic blood from his visor with futility, only succeeding in smearing the greasy fluid around. Zaeed was still putting disrupter Vindicator bursts into the tough shielding of the thing, shimmering it with damage, but not enough to even draw its attention. As Garrus collapsed the Mantis and stowed it on his back, the Prime rotated its torso and faced the crouched Thane with its upraised pulse cannon.

_He'll be __blown in half_, Garrus thought desperately. Thane's armor barely qualified to be called such, and his shielding unit was the lightest of the _Normandy's_ specialist crew; all of his equipment was designed for stealth and silence.

The turian sniper tapped his helmet and he spoke in urgent, clipped words. "Thane, roll right." Without hesitation, the drell abandoned his visor-clearing efforts and threw himself to the side in a diving roll, as the spot he had just occupied exploded, leaving a small burning crater as evidence of the death he had narrowly escaped. At the end of his roll, he smacked into a cargo container, and instinctively put it between him and the geth attacker.

Garrus targeted the Prime, queued an Overload request into his charging omni-tool, and his rarely-used Avenger at the small of his back unfolded into his hand. Without sparing a look to the weapon, he flipped the ammo-select to _disruptor_ - the lightweight assault rifle had the advantage of a high firing rate, better for weakening shielded units. Hopefully, the storm of electrically-charged rounds would render the Prime ineffective long enough to buy some time for more effective assaults.

_Spirits, this had better work._

He charged out of cover, firing as he advanced, just as the omni-tool released the Overload to crash the already-damaged shields of the Prime. At the sound of the tech attack, Thane risked popping over his cover to launch a Warp into the blurry shape of the Prime. Zaeed's and Garrus' rounds were now hitting weakened metal directly, and the geth shuddered and jerked at the electrical interference shooting throughout its circuitry.

Sensing his chance, the turian vigilante leapt forward, uncoiling like a jungle cat as he extended the talons of his left hand. His omni-tool flash-forged silicon carbide blades upon them, extending them to double length, and enhancing their effect a thousand-fold as they seared with white-hot energy.

With a diving swipe as he rolled past the shieldless Prime, Garrus nearly hacked the geth's left leg off at the knee, pressurized synthetic goo spraying out of the damaged limb as as the leg buckled, causing the seemingly invincible machine to collapse to a semi-kneeling position. Garrus was still rolling up to his feet when Zaeed's raspy voice echoed in his helmet com.

"_Get away from the fuckin' thing!"_

The armored turian scrambled behind Thane's cover to join him, and they tucked in tightly to avoid flaming mechanical bits as the old merc's incendiary grenades landed home, sending the machine up in a disintegrating inferno as it shrieked a digital code of death. Thane's splattered, smeared helmet turned in his direction, and the drell shrugged.

"Not my finest moment," he buzzed quietly.

"Ahh, don't worry about it. Squad combat in the wide open and broad daylight isn't your thing." For a moment, Garrus looked at a tiny piece of burning geth that landed on his foot, and casually flicked it away with one finger. "Zaeed got the kill, I'm sure he'll claim. He'll be impossible to live with, now." The turian struggled to not laugh from being so awash in relief.

Zaeed's gravelly voice shouted over to them, the words forming around his mocking laughter. "You kids gonna hide back there all day while I do the heavy lifting? Hell, you'd both not have lasted a goddamned hour back on that dust-up in that hydrogen processin' plant over Juncro back in '63!"

Thane sighed good-naturedly. "If you offered me a contract, I could kill him."

"Let me think about it."

* * *

Kenneth Donnelly lifted his spoon from his bowl and looked at the chocolate-brown chunk of "beef" on his spoon, which was nestled in a little clump of gravy-soaked reconstituted potato and freeze-dried carrot, speckled with black pepper bits. Licking his lips, he slowly ingested it, chewing thoughtfully with his eyes closed and making a quiet sound of appreciation.

Gabriella Daniels shook her head as she sipped her steaming tea carefully. "I swear, Ken, you like Gardner's 'cooking' better than anyone I've ever seen."

"A' _course_ ah do. It's jus' like ol' cookin' back 'ome, Gabby. Put evathin' inna big pot, boil tha shit outta it 'til tasteless, serve! Muh mum woulda been proud 'o Rupert over there." He eagerly scooped up a fresh spoonful.

"That sounds...nice." With a roll of her eyes, Gabriella set her tea down and picked up her sandwich, which allegedly contained "turkey". Pretending it wasn't a vat-grown synthetic protein was a skill one acquired during spacefaring service. Sandwich in hand, she froze in open-mouth confusion as Crewman Thomas Hawthorne - omni-tool still aglow - ran down the sleeper-pod hall, coming from the direction of Garrus' usual station where he had been overseeing gunnery duties.

"Guys! Jack and Samara are sparring in cargo!"

He bounded down the hall as Ken dropped his spoon into his bowl to jump up and follow, along with Gardner and Crewman Matthews. The men nearly trampled each other as they fought their way down the harrow hall, yelling and whooping.

Within seconds, Gabriella was alone in the mess, still resting her elbows on the table with the sandwich suspended in front of her face. She sighed wearily and spoke to the emptiness around her. "You know, Gabs, it would be nice to spend some time on a ship with _grown-ups_."

The engineer considered her sandwich, then turned and looked down the silent hallway. Rolling her eyes at herself, she dropped her sandwich on her plate. "Ahhhh hell." Gabriella jumped from her seat and ran after the rest of the crew.

* * *

###

_Subject: Thank you_

_Ashley -_

_Thank you for writing. I mean that sincerely, as I would expect it was a difficult thing for you. I've been trying to place myself in your position, and the closest thing I can imagine is picturing Kaiden walking into the room wearing an enemy uniform, right now. It would be like being punched in the stomach. I'm sorry I did that to you, however inadvertently._

_I hope you can trust that I didn't hide anything from you. I awoke about three weeks before you saw me, to discover that two years had vanished. I am still in the process of trying to reconnect with the present time, with mixed results. While I was gone, the Alliance and the Council both severed some connections with me, both in the literal sense (I believe I still may be officially KIA and my accounts are frozen) and also in, I suppose, personal ways. They've discredited a lot of things we fought to bring forward as evidence and truth. The cover-up bothers and offends me deeply, even as I can also see some reasons why they would do it. I don't know what else to say about that, this is something I'm still trying to work out for myself._

_The only defense I can give you for my Cerberus situation is this: They brought me back to fight for something the Alliance seems to be willfully blinding themselves to, and since I'm able to fight that fight, I shall. Now that I'm here and I'm breathing, I can't do any less. There will come a time when our current goals do not precisely align in such a way, and when that day happens...well, that will be an interesting day._

_I'm proud of you, by the way. Losing people you care for can break you or make you stronger - and it's clear what path you took. I remember a few forks in my own road when it wasn't clear which way I would go. Again, I'm sorry. I would not have wished that on anyone, but I'm glad you were there all the same. We won an incredible victory together and you can always be proud of your part in that. It sounds like the Alliance finally removed head-from-ass and are treating you right. You deserve it._

_I know what my current mission is, and it's a desperate one. I won't provide mission details, as I cannot know if the Alliance would attempt to sabotage it for no other reason than to take an anti-Cerberus stance, regardless of the motivations._

_My own and my crew's survival is a secondary consideration, and I don't begrudge that. I've already had a second chance, which is more than anyone ever gets or even deserves._

_Playing with house money, you could say._

_-Shepard_

_Garrus sends his 'regards and such', by the way. That's just about a direct quote, you know how he is._

_###_

With a weary sigh, he let the datapad land in his lap, leaning back into the reclining chair that Chakwas had provided. He was grateful, at least, for the small favor of no longer being confined to a bed at all hours while these hated tubes prevented him from even turning over. Combined with the fact that he was currently enduring the first instance of being unable to partake on an away mission, and he was chafing at the inactivity and the nagging feeling he was letting his crew down.

Mordin had been a help, surprisingly. Perhaps he was at a lull in his normal research activities, but the salarian had visited several times. The scientist had cheerfully informed him that his downtime was a rare opportunity to upgrade his equipment, and had taken the liberty of modifying his beloved Carnifex - all the upgrades could be undone, they were modular parts, he hastened to add - with some of the internals of the new M-77 Paladin, a niche weapon and still fairly rare. It was a smaller but even more powerful handgun meant for emergency concealment use when anti-armor firepower may be needed.

Combined with the Carnifex's larger size, it didn't have the four-shot restriction - seven with the modified Carnifex - and with the additional space in the frame, Mordin and Jacob had enlarged the mass accelerator chamber and bored out the barrel, which was now big enough for Shepard to fit his thumb into.

"Did some research, accessed your suit telemetry. Unique physiology now. Cybernetic strength in your grip and shoulders. Different comfort points for recoil, weapon weight. Thought we should take advantage. Heavy handgun designed for only you now, suggest not lending it out. Sprained wrists, hurt feelings." His eyes crinkled up with his good-natured smile. "Know well your fondness for blowing large holes in vorcha, batarians. Supportive. To be encouraged."

Shepard had to laugh, and reached up to lightly slap the scientist on the arm. "Thanks for looking out for me."

"There's more! Serious note. Read Thane's report about engagement with krogan on Pragia. Close call. Showed extreme toughness to survive, but not the same as _winning_. Exposed weakness in your gear. On Illium, spent some credits. Obtained upgrade for omni-tool, silicon-carbide blade. Spade-shaped, for punching motion, but can do slicing backhands, also. More geared to aggression then elegance - have seen you fight." The salarians' eyes crinkled again.

"Ideal for close-quarters combat, husks and such. Krogan, of course. Works with both hands. One at a time due to power restrictions. Especially good with your, again, unique strength profile. Can punch through heavy armor. Messy. But _fun_."

Shepard shook his head in bemusement. "You have a real nasty streak, Mordin."

* * *

"Garrus!" The turian was nearly bowled over by the distraught quarian as Tali leapt into his chest and wrapped him in a relieved embrace. Holding his Mantis up and out of the way, he returned the hug one-handed and pulled her close. Zaeed and Thane kept a respectful, silent distance.

"Tali, thank the spirits. We got here as soon as we could, had to fight our way past a damned Colossus to get in."

Tali pushed back, holding him at arm's length while her purple visor tilted up to view him. "I know...I was making preparations to upload my data, then hole up with traps and wait for them to breach the entry. I just wanted to...take as many with me as I could...for killing my squad. Keelah, Garrus, I lost them _all_." Her voice roughened and bordered on breaking. "My whole team of marines _died_ for me. I'm...not even sure if my data is worth it. What do I do now?" Her hands fussed over each other as she spoke, her slumped posture making her look small and vulnerable.

_Losing your whole squad for nothing. Yeah, I can relate._ Garrus stowed his rifle and rested both hands on her slender shoulders. "We ran into Kal'Reegar, Tal. He's wounded, but he'll make it - we sent him back to his shuttle while we moved on to come and get you."

Tali pressed one hand to the side of her helmet, as if dizzy. "Oh, praise the homeworld...he's a good man."

"I got that impression. I've not met a lot of quarian marines, but if they're all like him then your people will do just fine. Come back with us, Tal. Upload your data and worry about that later. We came for you, because we need you...hell, we missed you, too. We have the _Normandy_ overhead, and something's wrong with Shepard that I think you can help with."

The twisting hands of the quarian engineer became very still. "What? What's wrong? What's happening?"

"It's a long story. Don't panic, he's ok for now. Get your stuff and let's get out of here. We may have to deal with more geth on the way out if we don't hurry. Message Kal'Reegar and get him in the air, you're coming with us. And welcome back, Tali'Zorah."

* * *

Shepard was just starting to doze again, mostly out of sheer boredom, when the medbay door slid open and there was a sudden commotion. Snapping his head up, he frowned as Jack shuffled in, slightly bent at the waist and holding her left arm tightly against her body with her right hand. Just behind and beside her, Samara walked with one hand resting at the back of Jack's neck in an almost protective fashion. The Justicar's mouth was swollen and purple on one side, and a piece of her usual red headgear was missing from her forehead.

Jack looked worse. Beyond the arm injury, her upper lip was marked with blood from her nose, and one of her eyes was reddened and in the process of swelling closed, and her bent-forward shuffle was looking like some sort of leg injury. Behind them both strode a profoundly displeased-looking Dr. Chakwas. Shepard frowned, but said nothing.

"Fuck, fuck...fuck..." Dripping with sweat, Jack leaned back against an unoccupied bed, bending forward low as if stretching her back. "Ughnnn. Christ."

"Did the two of you even _consider_ non-violent methods of whatever sort of training biotics do?" With sharp movements indicating her annoyance at the two - and possibly soldier-types in general - the doctor plucked a hand-held scanner from the wall and played it over the tattooed woman's arm, bending low to accommodate Jack's current posture.

"Training that does not reflect potential combat situations effectively invalidates the value of the training," the asari stated simply, touching the corner of her bruised mouth, then widening her eyes briefly at the drop of purple blood that remained on the fingertips. "I assure you, actual lethal force was not in use."

"Assault with intent to cause bodily harm is still a criminal offense out on the streets," Chakwas muttered, loudly enough to ensure the others would hear. "You have a fractured radius, dear. That's the large bone in your forearm. Not displaced, though."

"Uh huh...my...back...hurts worse."

The _Normandy's_ medical officer played the scanner over the criminal's bare lower back, then felt expertly with her hand along both sides of Jack's spine. "I'd guess it was muscle spasms, possibly caused by dehydration and being flung around the room repeatedly." Shepard winced. Back spasms were no fun at all.

Dr. Chakwas gestured at the small cooler in the corner while looking at Samara pointedly, who obediently went to it and retrieved a container of biotic-specific orange drink. She opened it and bent low to hold it within Jack's vision, who took it with her good hand. Painfully straightening - pausing halfway with a hiss of discomfort, then slowly completing the motion - she drained it greedily before dropping the empty bottle on the floor.

"Here, finish this cup of water too, then refill it and finish it again. Didn't you two keep her hydrated and fed while you did all this nonsense? Humans can't just use biotics all day like asari can; just taking a breather now and again. It's physically draining and saps the body of fluids and nutrients."

Samara bowed apologetically. "I had...heard of this, although I admittedly was not aware if it was entirely accurate or not. I have spent my life in asari space dealing with asari matters. We..._may_ have let emotions get in the way of good sense. Training was...rigorous."

Jack made a grimace of pain as Dr. Chakwas carefully strapped a small ultrasound bone growth stimulator to her forearm. "What grandma is trying to say is, she beat my fucking ass for about three hours straight."

"Nay, child. You did well, and I am pleased you are not more severely injured. Rest and heal, and we will speak again later. See me tomorrow, if you like, and we will discuss future training without...so much confrontation being involved. Now then, I require a cool shower, followed by something cold pressed to my face." For a moment, Jack and Samara shared what approached a small smile of amusement, then the Justicar was out the door.

Dr. Chakwas followed her out, speaking over her shoulder. "I'll be back shortly. I'm sure Miranda will want the cargo bay inspected for structural damage, now. If I wait before I tell her, she'll just be extremely..._Miranda_."

As the door closed, Jack finally turned and looked at the silently observing Shepard. "You've been quiet."

He shrugged in return. "You know me, I try to keep out of people's business."

At her returning stare of incredulity, he grinned. "Ok, basically I was keeping out of Dr. Chakwas' way. I've been on the receiving end of her efforts enough to know she doesn't like distractions while treating patients."

Jack rolled her eyes a little as she drained another cup of water. "Doc is another 'old friend' of yours?" Shepard seemed to have _old friends _crawling out of every hole and crack she passed by.

He ignored her sarcasm. "Yeah, she was the medical officer on the first _Normandy_. Like pretty much everyone else there, she was vastly overqualified for such a small ship. The Alliance picked the very best for every position available."

The biotic grunted as she stretched her back again. "And you were the captain, eh? Guess that makes you the best there is."

"No, that was Anderson. I was his first officer, and I found partway into the mission that it was an evaluation for Spectre...eh, this is a long story. The short version is political bullshit got in the way, and the ship ended up being mine when it should have been his." He frowned and looked away. "Amazing crew. I lost over half of them. Never had the chance to do my job and contact the families. Now it's two years later; I'm on a Cerberus ship; I'm fucking half-machine..." he rustled the tubes in his arm with disgust. "And I'm alive and they're not." He said nothing more.

Liara's words came to her, unbidden.

_There will be times when he will need you, and he will not say so because he doesn't know how._

"Hey, Shep."

There was a pause before he responded. "Yeah?"

With her good arm, she pointed in a circular fashion, indicating the whole ship around them. "You got a _new_ amazing crew, now. I mean, I don't know most of the Cerberus shitheads, but all us weirdos you picked up? We know what the real job is. Saving the galaxy is nice and all, but when you shoot those Collector bugs, we know what you're doing. Killing the fucks who killed you and your guys. I have no problem with that. None of us do. We'll be right next to you, ok?"

He was still silent. Jack reddened and looked at the floor, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Expressing herself with anything other than threats and dismissals never went well.

_Stick to 'fuck you', idiot. Speeches are for smart people._

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."


	29. By Demons be Driven

The former Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau stretched painfully in his seat, yawned, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. A man lacking in significant hobbies or outside interests, he pulled the longest consistent shifts of anyone on the primary crew. The crews of the two _Normandy's_ would not have guessed, but the sarcastic man in the cockpit was nicknamed derisively. In flight school, he had been so focused and humorless, his lack of personality had earned him the mocking nickname. He'd carried it with him ever since as a sort of _fuck-you_ to that world he had conquered - first in Alliance-wide class, thank you very much. Many of his simulator metric records still stood.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he carefully used one hand to force-rotate the opposite wrist, stretching the joints. One of his many holographic displays was a - usually minimized - detailed list of physiotherapy exercises and medication interval reminders. Vrolik syndrome had been a huge pain in the ass, might be one way to describe it; socially-crippling might be another, he supposed.

Nothing quite so fun as spending, in total, about ninety minutes per day intentionally causing pain to yourself just to reap the reward of being able to walk to the local hangout, slowly and haltingly, so yet another member of the opposite sex can regard you as untouchable.

It was not without small upsides. A slightly beneficial side-effect of having a fucked-up collagen triple helix structure was he was acutely aware of vibrations. This was useless in the simulator - except to point out the flaws in the mechanics that were attempting to induce artificial inertial in the simulation - but in an actual vessel...he could _feel the entire ship_. Other pilots would send inputs and commands into the vessel, and the vessel complied. Jeff Moreau _played_ the ship, as if the Normandy was an extension of his nervous system.

Feeling his way through the filtering effect of the inertial dampeners that prevented the squishy life-forms inside the ship from being flung about and turned into paste, he could sense shifts in kinematic energies without needing an instrument to guide him. EDI was consistently baffled when he would input adjustments for sheer drift six milliseconds before the warning even reached his control panel. The AI questioned him on it, and often. He, in return, took great delight in feigning ignorance.

_Well, she didn't really need to know how, did she? I get to be the social outcast who doesn't do anything else but sit in this chair, and I live in pain every day, but I also get to be the fucking Red Baron of space. Strap in and ride the lightning, assholes._

This was how, when he heard the _click-click-click_ of heels approaching the cockpit, up through the neck of the ship, he knew who it was. Miranda. Only her and Samara wore high heels on this ship, and Samara's were slightly thicker and heavier. Produced a different timbre in the harmonic through the floor. She didn't know it, but Miranda was approaching him while practically shouting her own name.

Didn't work on everyone, though. If he was even slightly distracted, Thane could appear next to him and almost literally scare the shit out of him. Kasumi didn't even need a distraction. He glanced down to the floor, where he had tossed the issue of gay Fornax someone had tucked into the back of his seat less than an hour ago _while he had been sitting here._ Fucking Kasumi.

"Mr. Moreau, good afternoon."

"Hello, Miranda. You're allowed to call me Joker, by the way."

He twisted around just enough to look up at her, and offer a smirk that possibly would be taken as friendly. He didn't like her, though. Being under her unerring, uncompromising eye was part of the price of flying for Shepard, and he'd have paid anything. That's the thing you do to repay the galaxy for doing the one thing that the geth, krogan, batarians, Saren and Sovereign had been unable to: kill Commander Shepard.

Yes, he would tolerate her. That was the price.

"Do you have a few minutes, Joker?" To his surprise, she moved over to the empty-copilot seat and neatly slid into it; crossing her legs informally and balancing a datapad on her lap as she reclined back. She faced him with a raised, perfectly shaped ebony brow, framing the question above her icewater eyes. Her stiletto heel dangled comfortably. Her face was devoid of the usual smirk of disdain.

This, he decided, was confusing.

"Um. Yes. I do. What did I do wrong? Use zero-point-three percent too much fuel moving into Haestrom orbit? Place ourselves just slightly out of exact center on the darkside of said planet, avoiding an instant roasting from the rays of the star? File a report where I used _it's_ with the apostrophe, where I _really_ needed to go without the apostrophe, thus denoting _belonging to it_? Use a font deemed unfit for the professional documentation standards of..." he squinted, looking back and forth in the mockery of a manner of checking for those who may be listening in, before continuing in a stage whisper. "A _terrorist organization?_"

The Cerberus officer sighed quietly, as if her expectations of how this conversation would go were being verified, to her great disappointment. "No. General update. How are things? Do you have everything that you need? Issues? Concerns?"

His reply was a blink.

After five full seconds, she cleared her throat quietly. "Joker?"

He blinked again. "Yes. I mean. No. This is a trick. Of. Some sort." Narrowing his eyes at her, he pursed his lips. "You're asking me. _Me_. If. I'm. Ok? Happy? If things are...well?"

Miranda reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, making a gentle rubbing motion as if applying relief to a sudden headache.

"Yes. Yes, I am. Would you just humor me? You're doing a job, presumably. Is everything ok with the job? Do you _need_ anything? I'm looking for issues proactively. Pretend this is really happening and just play along, if that helps."

Jeff sat back in a slouch - while steepling his fingers before himself in an exaggerated manner of thoughtfulness. "Right. Right. Ok. You know I'll say something about 'booze' and 'hookers', right? I mean..."

Miranda, to her credit, rolled her eyes only slightly, but also twirled her finger in a '_ok, keep going'_ gesture.

"Hmph. Well. We've done a lot of upgrades recently. A _lot_. Too many all at once, honestly, but I know we had to cram them all in during the available time while we orbited Illium. I'll go from worst to least offensive." He began to tick off items with his fingers. "We've lost some of our stealth ability. The heat dissipation is uneven because of the armor upgrades. It's patchy and weird now, in layman's terms..."

Miranda recorded this. "Does the new weight distribution affect realspace handling or inertial dampening to a noticeable degree?"

One of his eyebrows raised. "I...yes. Actually, yes. A little."

Miranda entered another line in her datapad. "Flight sensor perturbations have also been affected? Given the delicate touch you employ during combat maneuvers, I would assume even a slight variance from calculated expectation to execution would be a moderate hindrance to your comfort level of control input fault tolerance."

Joker blinked yet again.

Reaching forward, Miranda opened three holoscreens and ran a quick historical graph in one, and a simple query simulation in another.

"It would seem you've already done some work on this with EDI. We'll be doing some additional work on the hull, soon, so I'll seek your input when the time comes. Any changes to the handling dynamics, prior to approval, will go over your desk...so to speak." Miranda turned back to the pilot, to find him staring at her with an openly slack expression.

Jeff squinted at her, as if in suspicion. "Yesssss. I'm sorry. What's happening? Do you have some piloting experience I don't know about?"

Her expression neutral, she offered a small shrug. "The bare essentials in hands-on. I'm a competent shuttle pilot, nothing more. I've been studying the D1 entrance exam, and running a few simulations in my spare time. Specifically of the _Normandy_ systems, of course. I've passed the exam several times in testing simulators. I won't lie - you have a natural talent for this, and I do not. However, currently I am the fifth available emergency option to pilot the _Normandy_ if - in order - you are incapacitated, followed by EDI going offline, then Crewman Sarah Pat..."

"I'm sorry, I really need to stop you for a second. When did you start this?"

She considered the question for a moment. "Eight days ago."

Joker's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "The D1 exam is attempted following _three months_ of lecture and study. And, that is _after_ the entrance exam and a few rounds of simulation basics to weed out the not-talented-enough."

She smiled thinly. "I read quickly, my memory is excellent, and I don't sleep a lot."

"I'm going to do one of those 'permission to speak freely' military things, even though I know that isn't what we do here in terrorist-land. What the crap is happening right now? With...this? This conversation? Who are you and where is Miranda?"

The Cerberus operative considered that for a moment. "That's fair. It's recently come to - or, more accurately, been _brought to_ - my attention that my skill-sets as a - quite frankly - _superlative_ project manager were _not_ translating well to my current responsibility as the executive officer of a small capital ship. I have, to be blunt, _buggered it up_. Too high-level. No involvement or commitment, no investment."

"I see. Right. Is it ok if I think this is weird?"

Miranda inclined her head slightly. "It is."

"How long ago did Shepard tell you to get your shit together?"

A sculpted eyebrow raised, again. "What makes you think it was Shepard?"

"_Was_ it Shepard?"

After a pause, she smirked in amusement. "Of course it was."

"Huh. Well, don't let it get you down. He laid into me once too. That was the exact opposite of fun."

For an odd moment, they shared a comfortable silence, sharing a look of mutual understanding. It was now the strangest day he could remember since setting foot on the SR-2.

* * *

_Stumbling out of the woods, I'm so tired I can barely see. Taking several steps at a time with my eyes heavy and closed. Just keep moving - it doesn't matter where, just away. Everyone's dead. Everything is burning. I don't even feel the root that trips me, I'm just suddenly falling. But I can't catch myself, my arm doesn't work and the other one is too slow. I smash my face right into the ground and white light explodes in my eyes, as it feels like my nose is driven into my forehead. My mouth is full of dirt, and I choke on it as I gasp for air. I can't breathe. I try to roll over, and something scrapes and moves in my broken arm - my scream is cut off by the coughing fit._

_One of the men kneels and gently grabs my shoulder, rolling me onto my side. It hurts more than anything I've ever known, but at least my face is out of the twigs and leaves. I twist my head to look up at him, spitting out the taste of my planet's soil. I squint against the morning light that is punching through the trees with beams of yellow, one of which lights him up like a heroic vision. He's dark-skinned and older than the others, and his armor has a different symbol on the chest._

"_Commander Anderson, this must be a kid from Mindoir that got away." That voice comes from somewhere else behind me, I can't see him. I can't move. Now that I've stopped running I just want to curl into a ball and die. The pain is everywhere and I can't catch my breath._

_The dark man turns his head in that direction. "Yeah. Fan out and make sure he wasn't followed by slavers." Turning back to me, he softens his voice. "Hey kid. Take it easy, you're safe with us. We're Alliance Navy and we've come to assist the marines who are already fighting the batarians, ok? Try to rest and calm down, you're safe now. Johnson, get the kid some water and let's see if we can brace his arm. _Resilience_, this is Anderson. Send a shuttle to my current position, we have a surviv-"_

"Shepard? Hey, Shep."

"Muah...?" With a jerk that rustled the tubes in his arm, his unfocused eyes opened, and then squinted in the white light of the medical bay. A hand was on his shoulder, squeezing him gently. _Propped up. Lights. Medbay. Normandy. Jack._

"Hell, I was only gone like, ten minutes - getting us some food. Figured you'd be getting sick of sleeping in this place, now look at ya." Jack's broad lips were twisted up in a smirk, highlighting a scar at the corner he'd not noticed before, and her notched eyebrow was lifted in amusement.

"Jack...hey...sorry," he rasped roughly. _Anderson. Jesus, I need to do something about that. I can't just go out and die on him again without speaking to him. Need to find a way. Can't assume there's always going to be tomorrow - already learned that lesson. You lost your father once, and then found another one. You can't jus-_

"Shep?"

Shepard blinked twice, hard, to clear his eyes, and Jack's features sharpened before him. Her hair was longer than he'd ever seen it - if she'd been a marine recruit, she'd have caught shit for the scruffy condition of her crew-cut. Other than shaving the bar-code like tattoos on either side of her skull clean to the scalp, she had not touched her hair since landing on the _Normandy_. Her hair was rich in color now, the same deep chocolate-brown as her eyes.

She was so close that his enhanced hearing was picking up her heartbeat, despite the white noise of the medical equipment and the sloshing of the fluids moving in and out of his arm. He found himself licking his suddenly dry lips. _Most beautiful woman any _Normandy_ has ever seen. You don't even know. You don't have a clue._

"Yeah, I'm here."

The biotic was still bent forward over him, and he could smell her sweat and a hint of her deodorant. _Right. Samara and her, sparring. Jack was hurt._ Looking down, she still had the bone growth stimulator on her arm, and tucked under it and held against her torso was a foil wrapped package. With her good hand, she pressed a similar one into his hands, and put a bottle of apple juice next to him on the table.

"Here. Gardner tossed together a couple of sandwiches for us - chow's not for another two hours. Heh, just as well. Sandwiches are likely safer, amiright? I don't like apple juice so, hey, that's yours. Had apple juice all the fuckin' time in prison." The tattooed woman furrowed her brows at him, then glanced back at the closed medbay door before returning her eyes to him and lowering her voice. "You ok, scout? I know a nightmare when I see one. Don't think I ever got one in ten minutes, though. That's not cool."

Her hand was back on his shoulder again, and though her sore back must have made it painful, she was bent forward with her face close to his. Keeping his gaze to his lap, he fumbled with the wrapper of his food.

"It wasn't even the bad part of that one, I'm fine." Glancing up at her, he caught her concerned look just before she hurriedly smoothed it away, retreating to her normal countenance of chilled indifference.

"Right, whatever. Not like if our positions were reversed, you'd not be up in my shit constantly trying to make it all better." She straightened and started to turn away.

His good hand flashed out and gently took the thin wrist of her unbroken arm. "Hey...hey. Sorry. Military officer, remember? I'm not allowed to have any problems. Everything is always fine."

She turned just enough to regard him from the corner of one eye, her face slack. "Not one of your soldiers, Shepard. Don't got a rank or a shitty paycheck or a dental plan. I'm here until the debt is paid or I don't give a shit anymore, whichever comes last."

The commando let her wrist go, not wanting her to feel like she needed to rip it away. "I know. I appreciate every day you've stayed. And, fuck, what I said on Illium..."

"Don't. Miranda, of all people, sent me a text. Well, it went to several people here so...whatever. Her and Kasumi got together and compared notes. Something about how, last couple days, you've been kinda drugged or drunk-like. 'Not responsible' for everything you said or did. You know, though, I figure it was just you losing your filter. Saying the things you usually thought. Maybe it was good, yeah? Like I told you once before, you've helped me more than anyone. Least I can do is suck it up and not be a pain in your ass all the time. Can't feel what you said was wrong."

There was a pause, then she turned around to face him again, this time with her mouth tilted up in a smirk.

"Also can't say what you dropped on Miranda wasn't kind of awesome."

He looked back up at her, his features calm and even. "That wasn't meant for your enjoyment. I don't chew people out for an audience. Normally. Shit." He dropped his forehead into one palm.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Relax, would you? I'm kinda fuckin' with you. Also, I bet she didn't exactly hate it when you were layin' into me, either."

She bent down and gripped his shoulder again. "Jesus, Shep. Stop beating yourself up. Think I don't watch war movies? You're supposed to yell at us 24/7 to get us useless, misfit, rule-breakin' shitheads working together to kill _Ze Germans_, or the drooling space bugs, or what the fuck ever. I _am_ kinda one of your soldiers, in a way, yeah? You still aren't quite yourself, I can tell. I'll give you a few days before I go back to calling you a pussy for being all soft on your people."

With a grin, she moved away and - carefully - hopped up on a bed, opening her orange juice by pinning the bottle against her stomach with the elbow of her broken arm, and unwrapping her own sandwich.

He followed suit, and for a moment they ate in silence. Shepard took a drink, and grimaced. "I hate apple juice too. Makes me feel like I'm in grade four when I drink it."

Jack snorted, her mouth full. "Now I'll have to look up your kid photos on the 'net."

"Oh, great. That's great. I looked like a dork. My hair was kind of the same style as Kelly's, if you can imagine. The big sideswipe thing in front." He gestured to his forehead with his hand, while making a face.

The biotic nearly choked on her food at the visual, holding her free hand over her mouth as she coughed. "Oh...Jesus. Shit. Are you serious?"

"Farmer parents, Jack. They really don't care if the kids look like idiots as long as the chores get done."

Jack laughed again, and slapped her knee before grabbing it in surprise. "Ohhh shit, that hurts. Grandma threw me across the room into the side of a Kodiak, like twice."

Shepard finished his sandwich and balled up the wrapper. "I'm pretty surprised you even went in for that."

"Hey, I _like_ learning shit. What do you think I do all day, watch Joker's porn? I'm reading stuff. Cerberus only taught me what they wanted me to know. Fuck, I was being taught all kinds of fake bullshit propaganda history I had to unlearn once I busted out. Fuck that. Now I try to learn everything I can get my hands on, I'm not stupid."

He held his hand up for mercy. "Hey, whoa...ease down, crazy tattooed woman. I didn't suggest you were dumb."

She leaned back and blew a breath out at the ceiling, her cheeks puffing with the gesture. "Ok, yeah, I'm kinda hung up about it. Didn't ever go to school, and...fuck, it's not like I use a lot of big words that ain't swearin'. Felt like a primitive little dummy next to your girl, Liara. Oh yeah, I met her, by the way."

Shepard carefully screwed the cap back on his half-empty juice bottle, raising a brow at this bit of news. "I see."

Jack rolled her eyes dramatically. "Relax, scout. We didn't do girl talk and fix each others, uh...hair. Ok, bad example. Anyway. Don't get what you saw in her, 'sides the whole 'her being wicked hot; crazy-smart; blue eyes like the fuckin' summer sky; ass you could bounce a credit chip off of; fantastically wealthy' thing she's rocking. I think her dress was worth more than everything I've ever owned put together. Nice that you tossed her a few dates out of pity."

Shepard frowned and shook his head. "No, she wasn't like that when I met her. She was a quiet little science-geek who spent her childhood alone, was awkward around people, and was emotionally beaten down by her domineering mother. She even stuttered a bit."

"Kinky. Was that like a roleplaying thing? Tell me there were costumes involved." Her smile was wide and wolfish-looking, her perfect teeth gleaming in the harsh white lights of the sterile room.

"Aaaaaand there we go. I'm not having this conversation anymore."

"Aw c'mon, get fun." The convict slid off the high cot to the floor and dropped her refuse in a small waste bin, then stepped over to him, reaching for the wrapper in his lap.

"Jack, there's no reason for you to feel inferior to her. You're a survivor who got through something that would break anyone else. You've got some, uh, issues, yeah. But you're not barking at the moon or wearing people's skin for a hat, either. I've been through some shit, and I know a lot of people who've endured terrible things. Yours is _the worst I've ever heard of._ I think you've been stronger than anyone."

The biotic's hand froze in mid-reach, and her eyes came up to meet his, their faces close.

"And if some things bother you now that don't bother other people, it's because you've already spent so much of yourself to even _get_ to here."

For a moment, her eyes were wide and locked to his, moving back and forth as they searched him for dishonesty or ulterior motive, and he didn't look away. Many people on the ship found her unpredictable, or even terrifying, but he was perfectly comfortable just enjoying looking right back into the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen.

"Shep..."

Jack's hand slid around to the back of his neck hesitantly, and the tip of her tongue appeared as she moistened her lips. Her eyes twitched again, alternating between looking into each of his. She looked terrified.

The medbay doors swished open behind her, and she jumped away as if burned.

"Shepard!"

Tali'Zorah vas Neema rushed forward and, stooping low, threw her arms around Shepard's shoulders, gently pressing the side of her helmet against his cheek. His good arm went around her small shoulders in return as he smiled broadly at the embrace. "Shepard. I came as soon as I could. Garrus and your friends Thane and Zae..., listen to me! Ok, that can all wait. You're hurt? They said I can help and..."

Past the rambling and excited quarian, Garrus was leading Thane through the door, who was pressing one palm over his left eye, his head bent in distress. Jack pushed her way past them both and was out the door. It closed behind her and she was gone.

* * *

As Jack pushed her way past the turian and drell, she glimpsed that the left side of Thane's face was darkened and burned, and his hand pressed over his eye suggested a serious injury. Just outside the door, she hesitated, wondering if she should do something to help when the jogging approach of Dr. Chakwas dissuaded that idea. As the doors closed, she could see past Garrus' bulky armor just enough to see the quarian girl still clinging to Shepard. Bent forward at the waist, her legs were straight, and in restless excitement her flared hips and heart-shaped ass danced and bobbed as she babbled to him.

_Fucking fantastic. Awesome. We absolutely needed some more hot, panting bitches falling out of the ceiling to crawl all over him._

With a sneer, she wheeled and strode to the elevator, ripping the strap from the bone growth node attached to her arm and dropping it on the floor.


	30. The Last Remaining Light

Time - 23:46

"What kind is this?" Pursing her peach-colored lips, she blew on her mug of hot tea while peering at her companion through the steam. It was the third duty shift, and the brightness of the _Normandy's_ lights were reduced by half to simulate a planetary night cycle.

"Well, my lovely Kelly, it is a nice - but not terribly exotic - Kenyan black tea. However, I've added a dash of yuzu syrup which _is_ a little uncommon." Kasumi raised her own mug and sniffed the contents with appreciation.

The Cerberus redhead took a cautious, airy sip to protect herself from having her mouth seared. "Oooh. It's sweet, and...fruity? Am I bad at this? It's really fantastically good."

The Japanese thief pulled her lips back from the rim just as she was about to make her own sip, chuckled quietly, and shook her head as her grin grew. "Very good, yuzu is like a little tart asian grapefruit, I suppose."

"Little asian tart, eh? I believe I'm familiar with them."

"Um, _no_ Kelly. Turning every available sentence into a sexual innuendo is _my_ thing. Kindly retract the statement and let's not get the lawyers involved." Kasumi took an airy slurp of her own, as Kelly - with a bright, cheery smile - silently but clearly mouthed _fuck you_ at her, causing the thief to nearly choke as she burst into giggles.

From medbay, just off to the side of the mess table, Garrus emerged and wearily trudged over to the table. "Ladies. Tea, huh? That smells pretty good. Actually, if we leave it black, I could try the one you're having."

Setting down her mug, Kasumi was swiftly to her feet, and pulled out the chair beside her. "Sit, Garrus. You look tired, I'll make you some."

"Oh...oh, thank you. Yes." As gracefully as he could manage, he settled into the chair with a suppressed groan. "Hey Kelly."

"Hey yourself. You can have human tea?" Her emerald eyes were bright with curiosity.

"Sure, it's primarily proteins that cause issues. Honestly, the whole thing is overstated a bit. The worst that happens, for most, is you don't feel too great - and the food does nothing for you, nutritionally-speaking. Might as well just not eat at all. _Some_ turians react worse - an allergic reaction sort of thing. I'm generally ok."

"Oh! Well then, I learned something today. _Are_ you hungry? I'll - um, well, I can't really make turian things, but I can find something and heat it up. I can rehydrate and warm up freeze-dried pouches _very expertly_, I'm told."

The acting XO waved her off with a small gesture from his armored hand. "No no, I was going back to get some sleep when I saw you two here. A warm mug then I'll head on."

"Okay. How are things in there?" Kelly asked, nodding towards medbay.

For a moment, Garrus unclipped his targeting sensor - she had never seen him do that before - and as he rubbed his eye, he replied in his flanged voice that seemed even lower in range than normal. "Well. They have a lot of machines plugged into him - which sort of creeps me out - and Tali is coding away in a frenzy while Miranda, Mordin, and Chakwas hover about. I think she's writing a new VI from scratch to boss around his nanobots or whatever, and they're instructing her on what they should be doing, in what order, blah blah. Chakwas is treating Thane at the same time."

Kelly nodded. "I read Tali's dossier. Supposedly, she's a brilliant software engineer - well, pretty much _all_ engineering disciplines - and even by quarian standards. That's the weakness of Cerberus, you know. Human-only means you can't have the best of everything because, well, we're not the best at everything."

Garrus grunted, then gratefully accepted the mug that Kasumi silently pressed into his hand. "Thank you, Kas. Surprised to hear _you_ say that, Kelly."

The redhead shrugged as she tapped the logo on her uniform. "Hey, I wear the team jacket, but I'm not the manager and I don't get bonus pay for bullshitting people. What happened to Thane?"

"After we picked up Tali, some geth reinforcements came in. He'd taken some of their synthetic blood...goo..._whatever_...to the faceplate earlier, and we'd mostly cleaned it up by then, but that stuff is like...oily glue. He was having trouble seeing, was slow to get to cover, and took a pulse round right to the head. Shields got most of it, but it popped his helmet off and he fell backwards, right into a beam of sunlight. Roasted one side of his face and got one eye, too. We were worried there might be permanent damage to his vision, but Chakwas says he'll be ok in a few days."

Kasumi sipped her tea as Kelly cringed visibly. "Whoa, poor guy," the thief quietly commented. "I'll go in and see him, if it's ok. You think?"

Garrus shrugged. "Should be, I think she was getting ready to..."

The medbay doors opened again, and the aforementioned drell walked out with his typical silent, measured steps. As he passed by, he nodded at them in turn. "Good evening Kasumi, Kelly. Garrus. I'm doing quite well, do not be concerned. I'll see you in the morning." One side of his face was a darker green than the rest, and it glistened with medi-gel. Far more noticeable was the fact he was wearing a black eyepatch.

The two women's heads turned in unison, tracking him as he walked by them to vanish down the hall. There was silence, broken after a moment by a tea-slurp from Garrus.

Kasumi spoke quickly. "Dibs! I saw him first."

Kelly sputtered in mock indignation. "What? Fuck you. That sexy assassin of my heart is wearing an eyepatch. An _eyepatch_. He's _mine_."

"Nuh-uh, bitch. Any leather-wearing drell who looks like he's on the cover of a romance novel belongs to _this_ girl." The thief's words were punctuated by a double-thumb-at-herself gesture and a sunny smile.

Garrus sighed. "Just a reminder that - before everyone starts ripping shirts off and the like - I'm sitting right here."

* * *

Time - 02:41

On the dirty white supply crate laid a pile of abandoned beer bottles, an ashtray full of cigar butts, playing cards, Joker's face, and a partially dismantled handgun. The pilot's light, raspy snoring was the only sound in the room - aside from the occasional sucking of air as Zaeed puffed on his third cigar of the night.

Long ago, they'd killed the lights; playing cards by the illumination of a flashlight reflected from the ceiling - at the insistence of the new girl, Tali - in the effort of adding atmosphere. Nearly an hour ago, she'd begged off from exhaustion, having worked for several hours on Shepard's recuperation.

Shortly after, Joker had put his head down to "rest his eyes for a minute," after polishing off his seventh beer of the evening. He'd knocked the flashlight over, and now it pointed under a table, casting the room into almost blackness.

"I like her. She's got sum steel inner spine." The old merc punctuated his words with a smoke ring blown up into the air, reclining far back in his chair with his legs straight out, ankles crossed.

"Hmm?" Jack had half-dozed herself, laying sprawled on the floor on top of a leather coat of Zaeed's; her rolled-up vest serving as her pillow.

"The quarian. Figgered she'd be soft like a civvie. Wasn't ten minutes 'for she told me tah kiss her ass, plus some other words I didn't unnerstand. Looked ready to back up her shit too, 'case I took it unfriendly."

"Yeah, Shep likes her too. Guess she loses the whole nervous teenage girl act when the shooting starts and she gets all hardcore." The biotic stretched and rolled over.

"Heh. Soun' familiar?"

"Fuck you." Her voice was sleepy, with no bite in the words at all.

"Heh." The sound of more smoking.

"Zaeed?"

"Yah?"

Sometimes she asked Zaeed questions just to listen to the sound of his voice. She told herself she was doing that now.

"You ever been...married or anything like that?"

There was a pause. "Had a girl, once."

The convict rolled over again, craning her head back to look in his direction.

"Just one?"

In the dim light of the smothered flashlight, the tip of his cigar glowed orange - in time with the sound of air being sucked through burning tobacco.

"Hadda lotta girls, Jack. Just one, in the way you meant."

* * *

Time - 07:16

"Come on." _Gentle taps on the face. Perfume. Violets? Miranda._

Clawing out of the blackness, yet again.

"Mmm...yeah. Hey. I'm here."

_Blurry lights and color, coming together. Raven hair. Glacier eyes._

"Report, soldier." Miranda demanded with a smirk. She looked to be in a good mood.

Squinting in the lights, he licked his dry lips once, before answering. "Uh, Shepard. Normandy medbay. Over...Haestrom, I think. Hungry. How am I doing?"

"Nicely. We had to put you under to transition you gradually back to functional nanobots, in the event the _expected_ procedure was subject to miscalculations, and quite frankly, unanticipated variables. Now, I think she'd just as soon stab me as look at me, but your quarian girl is truly remarkable. I think those little buggers are working better than ever. So, you're off the machines. Well, off the big machines and back on the little ones." At her words, Shepard held up his arm, noting the bandage in place of the spot where the tubes had previously been cycling his blood.

He lay his head back down on the pillow, in relief. "_Someone's_ in a good mood." Was there such a thing as _chipper_ Miranda Lawson?

"Of course. Things went as perfectly well as could have been hoped for. Do you think I've given up worrying about your health? As far as I'm concerned, I still own your partially artificial ass, Shepard." Miranda offered a gloved hand, and Shepard accepted it - noting the wrapping was missing from his hand, where he'd broken a bone punching a gun out of an asari's hand - and she pulled him to a seated position.

"Ugh...dizzy." For a moment, he bent his head down and watched the floor tiles swim about. "How long?" he asked, as the Cerberus operative gripped his shoulder and steadied him.

"Just seven hours, Commander," replied Dr. Chakwas, speaking from beyond Miranda as she busied herself with putting away equipment. "It's the morning shift, so you're even pretty much back on a normal sleep schedule. I'll be quite pleased to reclaim the space in my medical bay - I was about to start charging you rent."

"I don't think I'll be staying. The landlord is kind of a grouch." As the doctor snorted, Shepard patted Miranda's forearm and nodded to indicate his improvement, and she released him.

"I'd turn off your access to hot water, but you rather _could_ use a bath," the doctor added over her shoulder as she neatly put away plugs and cables.

Shepard glanced at Miranda, who held up both hands and backed away a step. "Don't look at me, I'm not up on the fine print of Spectre insurance, but you're not pre-approved for the sponge-bath package. Besides, I've seen you naked enough for several lifetimes during the rebuilding phase."

Dr. Chakwas snorted in amusement, again.

"_Wonderful_, thank you for adding that." Experimentally, he stood, his bare feet on the cool floor while he tested his balance. "I'll be sure to miss you both when I'm out of here, which is hopefully right now."

The Cerberus operative chuckled and gripped his shoulder to steady him again. "Let's get you dressed, then we'll find some food and something to drink. Then you're free to do whatever you'd like _if_ it's not strenuous. _Do_ try to take it easy for a day or two, hmm?"

* * *

Time - [local - Horizon]

Rounding a corner in the darkened hall, Jentha ducked into a small supply room, hurriedly closing the door behind her and putting her back to it. She heaved a great breath and dragged her hand through her dark red hair nervously.

She had to get out of this place.

She'd broken _the rule_.

Don't ever look to see what the employer is doing. Don't care, don't need to know, don't want to know.

_Fuck._

The polite-but-creepy chief scientist of this place, Radim, had summoned her to escort him from his office to one of the test labs. What she hadn't expected was that he would lean heavily on her the entire way, free hand clutching his head and making sounds of discomfort. At one point, he had waved for her to stop and he had popped two pills with shaking hands, chewing them dry with a face twisted in distaste.

It was when he had been hunched forward, after that, that she had seen the implant in the back of his neck.

_A biotic. At his age?_ He looked to be close to sixties. Young enough in these days of a life expectancy of one hundred and forty or so, but human biotics tended to top out in their late thirties. _Unless...he'd had the implant installed late in life. _Fully mature biotic implant recipients were prone to terrible side effects - while not even being certain of receiving measurable benefit. It was considered medically unethical enough that the procedure was illegal in Alliance space, and even not generally done elsewhere.

Jentha was hardly an expert in biotics, outside of knowing some in the Suns, but she knew the chatter about L2's. Rumors of horrible complications, suicides, insanity. The scientist had moaned in pain again, and she'd had to wonder, had he taken his chances in the hope for power?

Then they had reached the lab.

She, and the others on security detail, were never allowed in the labs. Not surprising, and she didn't care. The work being done was inconsequential to her. However, in his current condition, Radim had required assistance through the door after his security swipe of his omni-tool. The room they entered was filled with terminals, and four seats - one occupied by a younger researcher, who - engrossed in his work - didn't bother to even glance at them. Radim, only partially supporting his own weight, had his eyes squeezed shut and was facing the floor.

The terminals. Involuntarily, her eyes had gone to them - just for a moment. A shiver had shot up her spine, and she had that feeling of wishing she could unsee what was on those screens.

Lines of barrel-sized translucent vats with tubes, wires and displays attached to them. Dozens of them, row by row. A technician in a clean-suit unloading the contents from one.

A human infant.

Gritting her teeth against her revulsion, she had set the scientist into his chair gently. _Don't show anything, don't tip him off you saw something_, she remembered yelling to herself in her mind, at the time. _Calm, be calm. You saw nothing. You never looked._

As she'd walked back to the barracks, she'd forced an unhurried pace, suddenly highly aware of the security cameras that she had been passing under. The entire time thinking about snippets of conversation she had heard from the staff here, and how, now, the context was much different.

"_...batch alpha completed, results in line with expectations of this phase, meaning pretty much nothing. But the equipment works. Disposing of results..."_

"_...results disappointing. Not sure if I agree with Matthews about the DNA mix. Zero was far too uncontrollable to risk creating them by the hundreds, even with the mitigating factors of Lawson's girl..."_

"_...would have to be crazy to do that, I overrode him and had that baseline batch destroyed..."_

Batches, results, disposals. Experiments. Human babies. _Jesus Christ._

Still with her back to the door she'd closed, she breathed deeply and considered her options.

_Option A: Getting the fuck out of here. I have some good history with the Suns, good track record, some seniority. They'd transfer me out if I made up some bullshit story about needing to be somewhere else._

_Option B: Staying, not giving a shit. __Cashing the cheque. Looking at my little girl's face every now and then when I get to visit my folks and...no, I can't._

_Option C: Doing something about it. Fuck, that's not me. I'm no hero. Maybe I'm mistaken. Maybe there's another explanation, I'm assuming too much. I worked on Omega for four years and saw a ton of bad shit, but nothing like...what I think I saw. Maybe I'm wrong._

Another deep breath to calm herself, then she went back out into the hallway and woodenly walked back to her usual post. She'd keep her eyes and ears open - focusing on gathering more information.

She would know soon enough.

Right or wrong.


	31. Blown Wide Open

In all likelihood, he shouldn't be on duty right now.

Something about endangering the vessel and crew. His service record. His basic professionalism. Honor. What the fuck ever. One of those things.

But skipping a shift would mean explaining _why_ he was skipping a shift.

That would mean explaining he'd gotten kind of, well, _smashed, _had gambled away a not-insignificant amount of credits, and had spent his night sleeping with his face pressed into a cargo bin, next to an ashtray.

Besides, they were just orbiting a planet. He could handle the current duties. Which included slumping in the cockpit chair and fervently wishing that the displays and controls all around him would _stop fucking waving around_.

Joker ran his hand over his face again, taking in the stubble - no, _beard _- that was filling in. Despite the furious krogan inside his skull that was trying to bash his way out, Jeff considered that it might be time to shave. He'd shot past "I'm so good at my job I can afford to look a little rumpled" and was moving into the "I'm possibly homeless, all of my stuff is in this shopping cart, and I yell at birds nobody else can see" stage.

_Yeah, might be time to look into pulling myself together a bit, before Shep..._

"Hey, Joker. How are things up here?"

_Ah, shit._

_Alcohol and pounding headache numbs me to my secret vibration trick, gotcha. Wrex could have stomped up here and bashed my head in. Ok, I can do this. Time to pretend my eyeballs aren't trying to force their way out of my face and into my lap. Speak normally. Use all the syllables._

"Commander. Hey. Nice to see you up and around."

_Hope that sounded normal._

"You alright?"

_God. Dammit._

"I, uh, played cards last night. With Tali. And Zaeed. _And_ Jack. I recall that I had a few beers. It's also possible I stayed up a little late."

EDI's glowing blue orb appeared over her base transmitter. "Mr. Moreau, your sleep cycle was delayed for 4.7 hours, Also, judging by your delayed reactions, alcohol intak..."

Jeff covered his eyes with one hand, bowing his head. "EDI? I think you're _really_ nice and everything, but I really, _really_ think I can handle this conversation without you."

He glanced back just in time to see Shepard fall back a half-step, folding his beefy arms and cocking an eyebrow at him while making his patented _this should be good, please continue_ face. It was usually a trap that led to friendly - if razor-sharp - sarcasm if things went well, and yelling with finger-pointing if it didn't.

_Oh, fuck, this is never good._

The _Normandy's_ general intercom crackled to life. "Commander Shepard, priority message. Please report to the CIC."

_I love you, Kelly Chambers. I love you in the "will-you-marry-me, we'll build a house with a fence, have multiple annoying children together" kind of way._

Shepard shot the pilot a final, disapproving frown, complete with a _dude-you-are-so-lucky_ glare, and turned away. As he strode away, down the neck of the ship and towards the CIC, Joker could not resist making a small fist-pump of victory.

"EDI, can you ring up Sarah and ask her to trade shifts with me? I need a few pills and a nap."

* * *

_Cerberus Command Request_

_We'd like you to look into a situation on Lorek, a nearby planet in the Fathar system, Omega Nebula._

_Scan the planet for a base, where we believe Eclipse mercs are holding one of our operatives. You should be able to detect the operative's transmitter. Extract the operative; if the operative is beyond rescue, recover any relevant intel that Eclipse may have collected._

_This is a an exceedingly delicate matter, Shepard. We trust in your discretion._

The N7 commando shook his head in disbelief.

_Request declined._

_Shepard._

Time to take care of that talk that Miranda had requested. Something about full disclosure regarding all his cybernetics, Lazarus - the whole thing. He was not precisely looking forward to it - he honestly felt that it was going to be ten percent fascinating, and ninety percent skin-crawlingly uncomfortable.

He'd only just arrived at Miranda's door when Kelly's voice reached out, again.

"Sir, the Illusive Man requests your audience in the Communications Room."

_Should have figured they weren't just asking nicely._

* * *

"_Shepard. Nice to see you're doing well. We've not spoken in a while."_

Shepard fought the urge to roll his eyes, and folded his arms instead. "Yes, and I've missed our little chats," he replied frostily. "I assume this is about the command message."

"_Of course. I wanted to underline the importance of this. The information that stands in peril is both time sensitive, and would be incredibly damaging to us, if it were to reach..."_

"Us? You mean, _you_. Let's not confuse me with a Cerberus employee and muddle the nature of our working relationship. You brought me back on behalf of humanity to stop the Collectors, and potentially as a public relations move for your organization. Regardless of any hidden secondary objective, I am dedicated to completing that mission. The Collectors appear have retreated to lick their wounds, but when they'll show again - eventually - and when that happens, myself and my team stand ready. I'm still growing the team in question, as per your suggestion, and we've been training, as time permits. In short, things are going as planned. There's nothing else to discuss."

The glowing, blue-gridded figure regarded him calmly and sipped from its holographic glass of scotch. Taking a pull from his cigarette of electrons, he peered at Shepard through a finely-rendered puff of smoke.

"_I had hoped we'd earned a little currency in the trust department, Shepard - but I can't say I'm entirely surprised. What if I were to sweeten the deal?"_

"There's nothing you have that I want. Contact me if the Collectors do something exciting." Shepard reached for the _end transmission_ button on the holo panel.

"_Liara T'Soni."_

Shepard's hand froze - millimeters above the sensor that would end the call - and his face turned back to the smoking man's image.

"_As I thought. I have something your old, shall we say, _friend_, would desire very intensely."_

Despite himself, he felt a chill of fear. "I'm listening."

"_In the time since the incident of your death, Shepard, she has largely been on a singular mission. I won't betray the nature of this mission, but the information I have would potentially lead to the culmination of this quest. I daresay it could potentially save her life."_

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "And for how long have you possessed this information?"

"_I fail to see how that is relevant. If you're insinuating I've kept this card up my sleeve for a time when it would be especially useful, then yes, of course I have. And you've just proven it was wise to do so." _As calm as ever, the hologram swirled his glass of scotch before taking a sip.

"You said it could possibly save her life. Yet you withheld the information just to extort a favor from me?" His hands clenched into fists as impotent rage began to boil up the back of his spine, into his mind.

"_Calm yourself, Shepard. This is fairly recent intel. In all honesty, I've been seeking it even longer than she has, so I can't fault her for not being able to find it herself."_

The N7 commando's eyes narrowed with contained hostility. "And I get this 'card', _only _if I go to Lorek and take care of your operative?"

"_Of course. That's the unfortunate way of things, is it not?"_

The glowing-eyed hologram was lifting his cigarette to his mouth when Shepard severed the connection.

* * *

"Joker, navi...oh, Sarah."

The dark-skinned, youthful-looking woman turned in the pilot's seat to look up at him and offered a broad smile. As usual, her hair was pulled into a tight, military-style bun, despite the decidedly more relaxed Cerberus regulations. "Commander! Nice to see you up and looking well. Joker excused himself from his shift. It seems he was feeling poorly."

"Right. Navigate a course for Omega, Fathar System, Lorek, then I need an ETA." Shepard's voice was clipped and tense.

Sarah opened two new holographic sections and began to select options and editing variables. Shepard knew she tended to rely less on EDI for basic calculations, as she had self-stated the need for additional field practice whenever possible.

"Two relay jumps, sir, followed by one rather short FTL hop. I estimate about nine point four hours."

"Ok, let's get going ASAP. We'll approach Lorek orbit in full stealth."

"So noted, sir."

* * *

The doors to Miranda's office slid open, and he stepped inside. The Cerberus operative was sitting at her desk, alternating her attention between three holographic displays. Per usual, she looked equal parts busy, efficient, and salon-visit perfect.

She glanced up at him as he stepped in, and a polite smile touched her face. "Commander. You've made some time to speak with me?"

Shepard strode over and placed his hands at the edge of her desk, leaning forward and casting his eyes downward. "Miranda. What do you know about the nature of my relationship with Liara T'Soni." His voice was mechanically even, and devoid of any warmth.

"Excuse me?" The Cerberus operative leaned back in her chair, then seemed to think better of it, standing up and crossing her arms.

"Just answer the question. _Be precise_."

Miranda stepped back, and began to pace in a slow pattern as she spoke. "Liara was originally brought aboard your crew as the resident expert on Prothean technology and culture, as was deemed useful on your mission due to your contact with a Prothean beacon. Over time, she revealed powerful biotic ability and became a semi-regular member of your ground crew."

Her steps stopped while she was facing away from him, arms still folded.

"At the time of your death, you were lovers."

"How do you know this? We took great pains to keep this to ourselves. Even the great majority of the original Normandy crew didn't know. And the ones who did would never have spoken to Cerberus about it." _Ashley and Garrus knew. Wrex possibly caught on, same with Chakwas..._

"On your corpse, there were traces of...asari genetic material of a manner suggesting sexual contact. Liara was the only asari aboard the Normandy at the time of the attack."

_Alarms. Darkness. The ship shudders as he tears himself out of sleep. Extracting himself from Liara's naked form beside him, even as she bolts upright also. Her confused question stolen away by the sound of an explosion, the both of them nearly tossed from the bed as the cabin heaves. Joker is shouting over the damaged intercom system, unintelligible. A minute later they are in hastily donned armor as they open the door, and see the flames and bodies._

"God fucking dammit." _Must my entire existence be on display, since they brought me back? I'm like a lab animal._

Miranda turned to him again, her eyes narrowed and her face displaying only confusion.

"Shepard, what's wrong? I don't see the issue. You're hardly the first man in a relationship with an asa..."

"Your boss just used Liara to twist my arm. _Now_ I'm involved in doing something I had no intention of doing. _Now_ I have to dance to his tune just to acquire something that may be vitally important to her, and I don't even know what it is, or why it's so crucial. I don't like being played like an idiot."

The raven-haired woman uncrossed her arms and resumed packing with her hands on her hips.

"I see. I...can't say I condone this. Leveraging your personal life, I mean. What he requires from you must be exceedingly important."

"Yeah, I hope that makes you feel better." Shepard turned and strode out of her office.

* * *

Jacob slapped his open-finger grappling gloves together with a _smack_, then tapped the sides of his protective headgear.

"You sure about this, Shepard? You've been laid up for a few days on your back being fed by tubes, seriously." His words sounded mumbled around his plastic mouthpiece.

Shepard had spent three hours stewing in his cabin before deciding to get over himself, and get back to work. "Last time I woke up from being fed by tubes, I had to grab a gun and start killing stuff. Heck, I even took a few hours to relax, this time. I'm being coddled." Shepard pointedly raised his eyebrows for effect, then popped in his own mouthpiece.

Jacob grimaced. "Yeah, right. You got me there." Both men were in training shoes, shorts, and sleeveless Cerberus-branded athletic shirts. "So, we boxin'? Grappling? Mixin' it up?"

The N7 soldier shrugged, and offered a lopsided grin. "Surprise me. I'm just seeing how hard I can go before I'm worn out. If I'm in good shape, maybe Captain Miranda will kindly hand the ship back over to me before we get to Fathar system." The two men began to circle each other on the square gymnastics-style mat.

* * *

Kelly Chambers was standing in line for breakfast, chatting with Crewman Hawthorne when her omni-tool buzzed.

Kasumi G. - Um. Hey girl. Jacob and Shep in the cargo bay sparring.

Kelly C. - right now?

Kasumi G. - Yah. Just started. Shirts might come off soon.

Kelly C. - be right there.

Kelly put her tray down. "My tummy's a bit off-feeling. Think I'll wait on breakfast." As Hawthorne shrugged, Kelly hurried past the mess table and down the hallway.

_Should grab my workout gear, so I'm not too obvious. Yeah, that'll be real subtle of me._

* * *

"Ah, c'mon Shepard, you know she'd do it right now if you asked." Jacob threw an experimental punch, which Shepard easily deflected with a forearm.

"C'mon, throw quicker punches." Shepard ducked a left jab. "I don't _want_ to ask. It's good for her to be the boss for a while - watching over a living, breathing ship with a highly diverse crew is a unique experience. When I was suddenly in command of..." Three jabs in quick succession were blocked and dodged, and Shepard danced out of immediate contact distance.

"Good! So, in command of the original SR-1...had to learn that job on the fly. Doubt _Lazarus_ was anything like that, or this. Complex, yeah - but same setting, same mission, same scope at all times. All the people under her at the Lazarus station, they'd have been more...hmm..."

"Homogeneous?" Jacob feinted a left hook, but Shepard didn't flinch and nearly caught him with a stiff jab.

"Gold star. Yeah."

The Cerberus soldier smirked. "She'll ace it...she's adaptable. Smart as hell. Works best under intense pressure - it frees her from her detail-oriented compulsions."

"Huh. Sounds like you know her pretty we-"

Jacob flashed in low, driving his shoulder into the Commander's stomach. They both went down, but Shepard defended any grappling offense well, and after thirty seconds, they broke to stand again.

"Dirty trick. I guess anything goes, huh? But yeah. Give people the tools and opportunity, then let 'em surprise you. Haven't had as much time for that here as I'd like, but on the old _Normandy_, lot of people really stepped it up during their time onboar..."

Shepard abruptly launched a three-punch combo, the last of which managed to score a blow on his opponent's ribs. Jacob _whoofed_ out a breath, and stumbled back while barely blocking a high side-kick that could have knocked him out, if not for his headgear.

"Not taking the credit, but hopefully, I sent them along with a good base of broader skills than when they arrived onboard. Sometimes you just need to start the fire in people. Anderson did that for me. He didn't tell me exactly what to do - he just wound me up and turned me loose in the right direction."

Shepard dodged a punch by Jacob so precisely he felt the glove brush the tip of his chin. Not a millimeter of wasted motion. "Ash, especially, really ran with things. She's N4 now, I think. Officer. I remember the day I met her, she was a grunt who was barely holding on to survival on Eden Prime, dodging geth fire..."

"Damn, Shep...almost took my head off." Jacob decided that taking shots was getting old, and launched multiple combos, which were defended with a variety of blocks, deflections, and dodges. Shepard was breathing hard now, but had to admit he felt pretty good. Fast. Strong. Even the bandage on his left forearm was only giving minimal discomfort.

"Yeah, speaking of Ash. Don't get me wrong, she was a _good_ grunt. Aggressive. Excellent rifle form. Really knew her stuff with judo and striking, even taught me some things. Led classes on self-defense on the ship for everyone." More punches dodged. "Bet she chose hand-to-hand as her N3, just out of pride. By the way...if you ever meet her and things go bad, just back up and use a gun. Don't let her get her hands on you, or she'll be snapping your limbs off and mounting them in a trophy case."

"Not doin' so well against you, either." Two jabs offered at Shepard's head, and two neatly dodged.

"Not really fair. I'm the first cybernetic N7, remember? I'm kind of cheating."

"Yeah, I gu..." Shepard faked a jab, then repaid Jacob with his own takedown, nailing Jacob in the gut and bringing them both hard into the floor.

"Huoof!"

By the time they stood again, Jacob was breathing hard from the grappling defense, and he stripped off his soggy shirt to toss it aside.

Jogging unobtrusively on a nearby treadmill, Kelly exchanged a look with Kasumi, who was stretching her lithe form in a clandestine corner of the gym, and they grinned, delightedly.

* * *

"Well, thanks, Commander. Not had my ass handed to me for a while. I'm gonna pretend it's refreshing and good for me." Jacob peeled off his second glove, and flexed his swollen hand. For two hours, they had thrown and blocked hundreds of strikes. Grabbing the end of the towel draped over one bare shoulder, he wiped his face again, then pressed the summon button on the lift.

"Hey, I'm just happy I got through it without falling over. Figured I'd be completely worn out, but I feel pretty good. Kasumi!" The thief looked up from where she was sitting with Kelly, both girls drinking a sport beverage and sharing a laugh with each other. "You good to go in about an hour? Ground mission, might need someone sneaky." Kasumi flashed him a thumbs-up and a grin, in response.

Jacob wiped his face again. "Yeah, super. Glad one of us feels g...oh."

The elevator door rolled open to reveal Samara, standing at ease in her customary red Justicar armor, hands clasped behind her back at casual attention. Leaning against the back wall with her arms folded was Jack, dressed in black military pants and a green muscle shirt. The top had been crudely hacked off with a knife just beneath her breasts, leaving her middle typically bare. One of her hands clutched a water bottle.

Samara inclined her head politely as she exited. "Commander Shepard, Jacob."

Jack strode out past them all without making eye contact. "Hey Shep." She pointedly ignored Jacob entirely, as if he didn't exist.

"Hey." After watching the ex-convict walk away, Shepard turned back to Samara. "_This_ time, try to not break each other, please. Or the ship. Or anything expensive."

The asari returned a knowing smile as the ship's captain moved around her and into the lift. "Do not concern yourself about her. Today, we are doing non-combat exercises regarding mass and inertia manipulation. Biotic leaping, falling, and the like."

"Right." As the doors started to close, he offered her one raised eyebrow. "Don't puncture the hull, ok?"

Once the doors closed, Shepard wiped his face again. "You in for this one, Jacob? Cerberus-related op, rescuing a captured operative. Thought you might be interested in seeing what happens."

"Hell yeah, Commander. I'll have your back."

* * *

In full combat armor, including enclosed atmospheric helmet, Ashley stood with one hand on the shuttle door handle, the other holding her Avenger. Behind the mirrored visor, her eyes were glued to the red light / green light display controlled by the pilot in the separated cockpit section. Opposite her, gripping handles built into the low ceiling, stood Kirrahe and one of his tech officers, Specialist Jeban. Like hers, their hardsuits were topped in full helmets - except theirs looked like alien abduction nightmares.

_Ugh, creepy._

Green light.

"Let's go!" With a surge of adrenaline, Ash ripped the shuttle door open, letting in a blast of bitter wind and blowing snow. Leaping out into the blinding whiteness, she had a moment of disorientation as she fell without being able to gauge the distance to the ground. After only a one-meter drop, she crunched into icy crust, stumbled, and then charged blindly forward. _Don't be a target, move move move!_

Within seconds, her visor had adjusted to the high light level, and ahead, barely visible through the blizzard, was a metal ramp leading up to the targeted installation. Scanning for hostiles, she ran up the ramp and thumped her shoulder into one side of the main door. Nothing yet. Kirrahe hit the opposite side, nodded at her, and between them, Jeban went to work on the lock.

Twice, he had to brush blowing snow off of the display, but after several seconds of tapping away on his omni-tool, the salarian tech's helmet nodded.

"Almost there. Get ready. Get. Ready. _Now!_"

The doors powered open as Jeban fell back two steps, reaching for his rifle. Kirrahe flung a short-fused flashbang into the opening, then turned his head aside. Following the resulting explosion and flash of white, Ash burst inside with her Avenger leveled.

And blindly took an assault rifle burst directly in the torso. Her vision exploded in white light, and she felt herself stumble. Through the snow-crusted visor, she saw the floor rising up to meet her before her helmet smacked into it.


	32. Fire and Rain

"Approaching Lorek, sir. Full stealth. We're green for emissions. Vectoring in from sun-side for additional proton trail concealment."

The_ Normandy's_ captain nodded, standing behind the pilot's seat while leaning one elbow upon it. "Good job, Sarah."

Patal didn't have Joker's outlandish talent and artistry at the stick, but she was more than competent. In the co-pilot seat, Joker looked up and gave a silent thumbs-up to Shepard, in approval of Sarah's performance. He'd not wanted to return after she'd so graciously covered his ass, just to steal 'the fun part' out from under her, as he'd explained earlier.

_Good on you, Joker, _Shepard thought._ Nice call. May have just reduced that ass-kicking I had reserved for you about showing up unfit for duty._

At a _click-click_ behind her, Sarah turned just in time to see Shepard return his

massive and newly-customized Carnifex pistol to his lower back, then retreive his helmet from the floor next to his feet. For a moment, her eyes played over the gleaming, predatory-looking obsidian armor; the barely-visible arsenal on his back; the black helmet with the red stripe - now held casually under his left arm; and the glittering N7 logo on his chest.

Sarah chewed the inside of her lip and reminded herself to not say something fawning and stupid. _Council-Spectre-Star-of-Terra-holding-Hero-of-the Citadel-Commander-Fucking-Shepard is standing right next to me in _that_ suit, like he just jumped out of one of the posters. Don't hyperventilate. Be normal._

Joker cleared his throat quietly, and Sarah snapped her eyes back to her controls sheepishly.

Shepard adjusted the helmet tucked under his arm. "Sarah, notify Jacob and Kasumi to meet me at the shuttle."

"Yes sir!" As the N7 commando strode away in heavy thumps, Joker leaned in from the co-pilot seat, and spoke in confidence.

"Don't worry, sometimes I still stop and think, 'Hey, this is pretty cool.'"

* * *

As gunfire crisscrossed the air just above her, Ash came to her senses just enough to roll to the side behind a supply crate, grunting at the pain in her ribcage and the stars in her vision. Taking a breath, she reached out and retrieved her Avenger assault rifle, then quickly took stock of the situation. Putting her back to the crate, the light from the open door revealed Kirrahe and Jeban leaning in to fire ineffectively over her head, incoming rounds peppering the edges of the doorway and preventing them from advancing.

_They're suppressed. Do something. Grenade, flank, kill, MOVE._

Ripping a high-explosive grenade from her hip, Ash tossed it blindly in a high arc from behind her crate - before diving sideways to take cover behind a piece of machinery that was further away from the door. Just as the explosion sounded, eliciting the grimly satisfying sound of a pained scream, she was up and moving along the wall, firing at the targets she could barely recognize through the smoke and debris in the air from her grenade attack.

Her near-blind fire sparkled the shields of a target through the smoke, revealing him to her eyes. As he stumbled, he hit a patch of clear air, and she saw human-style yellow and black armor. _Eclipse, confirmed. _Quickly snapping her Avenger to disrupter rounds - Eclipse mercs tended to be high-tech, so personal shields for everyone - she gritted her teeth, mechanically pouring more rounds into him until he fell.

Seizing the moment, her two salarian companions also led with a thrown grenade, then pushed forward. Taking turns with practiced fire-and-cover, they advanced expertly. The Eclipse mercs either went down or retreated deeper into the complex. For the moment, the gunfire was muted and all was relatively quiet.

Ashley lowered the steaming rifle, and felt a wave of weakness overcome her. Beneath her breastplate, her under-armour felt hot and wet, seeping over her hip and into the armor plating covering her left thigh. Stumbling, her back hit the wall behind her and she slid to the floor.

Dropping the Avenger next to her, she felt over her chest at the dents left by the absorbed shots, until her finger slipped into a hole. At the seam at her abdomen, where the armor flexed to allow a soldier to bend forward, she'd taken a shot that had penetrated.

The armored fingertip of her gauntlet came out bright red.

"Ah...shit."

* * *

"Steamy letter to the editor?"

From the opposite side of the shuttle, Jacob snorted in amusement. Shepard rolled his eyes, his fingers playing over his omni-tool's holographic keyboard before pausing for a moment. "No, Kasumi. Sending a text to Liara."

"_Steamy_ text to Liara?" As per usual, her smile was teasingly baiting him.

"Don't you have a thing to steal, somewhere?" he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, the gesture disarmed by the smirk he wore.

"Oh, absolutely. However, since I've pledged my services to you, I've been unable to pursue those, hmm, interests. Costing me a fortune in missed profits." They both knew full well that the true price of her loyalty had been his assistance in taking down Donovan Hock - a matter he had been only too pleased to help her settle.

"Maybe you can file a lawsuit, later. Something about lost opportunities." Shepard resumed tapping at his message, only paying partial attention now.

"Oh, yes, you know me. Me and the legal process are like _this_." The preeminent thief of the known galaxy held up two fingers twisted around each other to underline her point. "Also, I picture Cerberus defense lawyers to be both exceedingly well-armed _and_ quite unfamiliar with complex legalese such as 'don't shoot people in the courtroom right in front of everyone'."

Obviously unoffended, Jacob grinned. "Well, you know. Fine print. Who reads that stuff?"

* * *

For the seventh time this evening, mostly out of nervous boredom, Dr. Liara T'Soni brought up the wet sleeve of her raincoat and activated her omni-tool, reading the five-hour-old message.

####

_Liara,_

_Will you be on Illium for the near future? I should have important information for you soon. Our elusive friend hinted it may be a 'final piece'. Perhaps you can help with this making sense to me, later._

_Shepard._

####

Liara, for the seventh time, smiled very slightly. The content of the message, while intriguing, had in the end proven to be less interesting than the events it had set in motion. Liara possessed an exceedingly advanced VI dedicated for a singular purpose - created just for her by a gifted friend, it could backtrace most packet sniffer applications that may have copied the message out. The trace, while it did not prove to be per-person specific, did lead to one particular - and not overly large - apartment complex. One of Liara's employees just so happened to reside there.

Armed with a very decent guess in regards to identity, Liara now could wager they may be concerned enough to act on this information this very evening. Act with deadly force. Things were starting to have the hallmarks of a minor crisis.

She smiled again. Humans had a idiom about _crisis_ meaning the same thing as _opportunity_. This was an opportunity to turn suspicion into paranoia, paranoia into panic, and panic into stupidity.

Seeding the next step had been simple. Apply the right disinformation to the right target, then see where the lie travels. If it simply doesn't go anywhere, you know that target is secure. If the lie starts to wander around, well then, _that_ was something interesting.

The successful information broker owned exactly nine different residences scattered around Nos Astra, of various levels of quality. There were fallback positions in the event of trouble, always leaving her with caches of emergency equipment, shelter, and a hideout, if needed. Her primary residence was sprawling and luxurious, located in a coveted high-security building with a stunning view. At the opposite end of the spectrum was _this_ address.

On the opposite side of the street, tucked into a utilities access alley, Liara huddled under a small second-story fire escape while weathering the downpour. Worn over her light commando armor was a hooded black raincoat. From its hood, a pitch blackness was cast over her ocean-blue eyes from the nearby streetlight. Silently, leaning against the wet building for what was turning into the third hour beyond midnight, she watched the steps and door across the street.

_14_, read the simple black metal numbers on the strong-looking door with an enhanced security lock. The street, if translated literally to a human, would read High Landing. Here in this importing-exporting industrial area of Nos Astra, there was little of the glamor normally associated with the city, which suited her purpose just fine. There were far fewer of the pervasive security cameras about, also.

Painted tan and set deeply into a concrete wall, the door looked industrial rather than residential, and indeed that was the purpose of the original construction many years ago.

Behind that easily ignored door on an utterly unremarkable street, lay a narrow stairwell lit with a single bulb, leading up to a two-bedroom apartment. It was remarkable only in that it was the only apartment in the entire building, a tacked on addition to a shut-down factory she had purchased through a shell company. Had she entered the apartment this evening, she would be the sole occupant of the massive building.

If her other residences were compromised, she had confided to a trusted confidant and assistant, this was a place she could feel safe. She rarely slept in the same location twice in a row, Liara had quietly explained, although for the next several days she would hole up at 14 High Landing. _If and when Shepard arrives, inform him personally and no one else, by any means, _she had quietly demanded, underlying the importance of the information.

Liara's reflection on the evening's past events was disrupted by a white hover-van approaching down the street, headlights cutting through the rain. Ducking back into the alley to keep to the darkness, she waited.

The commercial van slowed slightly as it passed her door, then continued a short distance down the street. As it came to a stop, the side door slid open and four individuals exited, even as a fifth stepped out from the driver's seat. With the driver standing watch - largely unnecessary on this quiet and dark street in a rain-shower so late at night, in an industrial area - the other four busied themselves with readying their last-minute equipment.

Two asari, a human, and a salarian readied pistols, assault rifles, and checked their armor. It was hard to be certain in this light and at this distance, but Liara didn't recognize them as being from any of the recognized mercenary groups. The driver made no effort to prepare himself, instead lighting a cigarette and leaning against the van. He wore no armor, opting for casual clothes.

So, he was staying outside as a lookout. The four combat personnel nodded to each other, then quickly jogged up the street, approaching her door. Once there, the salarian hacked the door - not without some effort - and the squad rushed in and up the stairs, slamming the door behind them.

* * *

Allen took a fourth drag on his just-lit cigarette, then tossed it away into the downpour, mostly unfinished. _Need to stop smoking, _he thought - for the several thousandth time of his adult life - as he hitched up his collar against the cold rain. Nervous and jittery about what he was doing this evening, he looked up and down the darkened street, seeing no other movement anywhere. _I hate this. Stress will give me ulcers. _Walking to the front of his van, he stood with one arm leaning on the front of it, peering at the door the team he had just dropped off had entered. _Hurry up, assholes. I don't want to be here._

He nearly wet himself when a silent hand grabbed the back of his raincoat, and he felt something puncture it under his right armpit, something sharp that pricked the flesh there. Something hard and ice cold, and very sharp. A knife.

"Do you know what a subclaven artery is?" asked a female-sounding voice from just behind his rain-spattered hood. He found himself unable to speak, using a throat that was locked in sudden terror, so he quickly shook his head in response.

"The major vessel of the human right arm, and right _here_." The cold knife in his armpit wiggled slightly, and he squeaked in pain as it scratched him. He stood up on his toes to get away from the terrifying sensation.

"It feeds your entire right limb, including the two main vessels in your wrist, just one of which seems to be a traditional method of suicide amongst your kind. The artery I'm close to severing is much larger. If you disobey me, I'll drop a biotic Stasis on you after you're cut, and you can stand here in the rain, completely immobilized while you bleed to death. Now then, do I have your full attention?"

He found his voice just enough to gasp out. "Yes!"

"Walk around the van with me, enter through the side door, and then get into the driver's seat. I will follow you and sit behind you. If you decide to resist, depending on the situation, I will decide between biotics, handgun, or this knife to kill you. Any questions?"

Allen swallowed noisily past the lump in his throat. "No!"

"Excellent. Proceed slowly. I do not wish for you to stumble and partially sever your own arm as you fall."

For a perverse moment, he almost thanked the voice behind him for her thoughtfulness. Dismissing the moment of utter madness, he slowly walked around to the far side of the van, through the beams of the headlights, pausing at the door to put his hand on the door.

"I...I'm going to open the door now." Perhaps it was the cold rain beating down on them both, but his teeth started chattering. The knife retreated ever so slightly.

"Go ahead."

Opening the door carefully, he stepped inside, moved to the front and squeezed in between the two front seats, sitting in the driver side. He heard his assailant take the seat directly behind him, with the movement of her own rainsuit sliding over the seats. She had left the side door open, and the sound of the rain pounding down echoed inside the open vehicle.

The hated knife was under his arm again. "Start the vehicle, drive slowly ahead by four buildings, then stop again. What is your name?"

With careful movements, he put his chip into the slot, and pressed the ENGINE START button. "A...Allen." Cautiously, he moved the vehicle forward, counting silently to make sure he moved exactly four buildings, then slowly pulled over to stop.

"You've done well thus far, Allen. You're on your way to surviving this evening. I will ask you some questions. Answer directly and honestly, and I will be pleased. The four individuals you dropped off, do you know them?"

"No."

"Elaborate."

He swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat. "I...picked them up. I was told to meet them in a restaurant, after hours. The back door was open. I was paid with a simple credit chip and told not to ask questions."

"How did you know to even be there?" The voice was soft, and cultured. In fact, it sounded almost friendly, if not for the situation and the words being used.

"I own this truck. I do deliveries of bulk foods to restaurants. The owner of this place...she offered me extra work if I could keep my mouth shut about it. I...my girl is...she's still looking for work, and..."

"Focus, Allen. These four individuals, they are here to kill the occupant of door number fourteen?"

"I'm...I'm not...sure. They didn't talk much. I think they wanted to capture someone, maybe kill them if that didn't work out." He felt the knife retreat from his flesh, and he risked a glance into the crude rear-facing mirror, seeing part of a blue face shadowed inside the dripping hood. She was currently looking down, and from the faint orange glow that sprang to life that illuminated her chin and mouth, had just activated her omni-tool. There was still a sharp sting in his armpit, where he could tell he'd been scratched by the blade.

"Does _accessory to kidnapping or murder_ mean anything to you, Allen?" she asked mildly, not looking up. "Also, if you're considering that now might be the time to flee, you may be correct. You would be able to take, in my estimation, at least five steps before the gravity well of a biotic Singularity turned you to tightly compressed mush."

Despite the chill of the night, Allen felt perspiration dot his upper lip. "No! I mean...I...understand. Accessory, I mean. But...I didn't know that was the job until we were already on the way. I'm just a driver! I needed the money, my girlfriend is...we're _expecting_. I..."

"This restaurant you met them at, what is it called?"

"_Sadru_."

"And the owner was there to speak with you and the others?"

"Uh, kind of. The owner spoke with me. This other asari spoke with those other four."

"Does this 'other asari' have a name?"

"I never heard her use a name while talking to the other four. But I've seen her at the restaurant before as a customer, and she's been in the back, like she's involved with the place. Called her Nix-something, and her dress was two different kinds of purple. I...I don't remember, I'm sorry!"

The hooded face in the mirror went still, then came up. He could not see the eyes, but the orange pinpricks of light reflected from the omni-tool looked like points of fire.

The face turned down again. "Back to the topic of _accessory_. The driver faces the same responsibility as the person who commits the act, Allen. The severity is identical in the eye of the law."

"Oh God. I...why haven't they come back out of that place? You're not there! They'd come back out!" _Maybe they could distract her, and I could get the hell away._

The asari behind him was still face-down in her omni-tool. "From the apartment video feed I have here, they think they have found interesting evidence to gather about me. Have you ever heard of the term 'honeypot', Allen?"

"N...no." What the hell was she talking about?

"It's a human idiom for a certain kind of a trap, a law enforcement term for a type of deceptive operation. The honey attracts insects into the trap where they are killed. I've never stayed in that apartment. It is entirely fictitious. I have previous-generation computers installed and running, with encrypted nonsense for data. Stored is expired food, old clothing I no longer need, and fabricated documents that run in circles pointlessly."

"The security on the inside door is meant to delay and annoy rather than actually keep anyone out - I am certain the Salarian tech enjoyed a _pleasant experience_ dealing with that. The apartment is registered to a person who does not exist, and the building belongs to a company that is as substantial as the air you are breathing. I am now deleting all records of both as I speak."

Allen swallowed again. "W...why bother with...?"

"I was involved in the sciences for a long time, and this is little different. Establish a controlled environment. Introduce a stimuli. Observe and wait. That is the nature of this type of warfare, Allen. You cannot simply seek and destroy the enemy, because you cannot know location nor identity. However, if you let _them_ come to _you_, the question of _where_ and _who_ tends to..."

On the omni-tool behind him, just as her voice paused, he heard her fingertip hit a command with a faint _beep_.

In the mirror, as if suddenly opening one's eyes to stare into the sun, the world turned brilliant yellow. Millions of falling raindrops captured and reflected the light from what burst forth from the opening that was previously the door of _14_. An enormous tongue of hellish, oily flame exploded across the street, propelling the door itself to drill deeply into the opposite building, like a blade fired from a cannon. A split-second later, the thunderous noise rocked the van and set his ears ringing. He barely heard her finish her sentence.

"..._answer itself_."

"Jesus! Fuck!" He was alone with this killer now. He was going to die here.

"Calm yourself, Allen. There will be no authorities for several minutes. Drive until I say otherwise." The voice sounded distant, his hearing fuzzy and filled with hissing white noise. He felt the knife touch the back of his arm again, not quite inside his coat anymore, but just _there_ so he could feel it.

Pushing down both panic and the bile in the back of his mouth, he did as he was told and the van lifted from the ground to move forward again. The orange fireball of the street and building slowly faded behind them.

"Drive normally. You have no reason to flee the area, as you're not involved, correct? Just be calm." The asari's voice was unnervingly composed, as if discussing the poor weather, merely to pass the time.

"Right. Yes. Right." The driver wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, in agitation.

"Let us speak about _you_ for a moment. You said you have a mate who is looking for work, and with her, you are expecting a child. A person under such pressure can make rash decisions."

Allen nodded, having been regretting certain decisions very strongly for the last ten minutes.

"Pull over here, into that alley. Then turn off the vehicle, and all lights. We will be hitting security cameras soon, and you do not want to be the only vehicle on the road driving away from an explosion."

The man did what he was told, and as the engine whined to a stop, darkness and silence settled around him, replaced only by the muted raindrops falling on the metal shell of the van.

"Do you consider yourself a good man?" the voice behind his ear asked softly.

_Here it comes. I'm sorry, Maggie. _"M...most. Of the time." He closed his eyes.

Raindrops. Otherwise, nothing.

"That is a surprisingly honest answer, Allen. How much were you paid to be the driver?"

His hand reached out slowly and he pointed to a credit chip sitting in a small nook in the dash. "Two thousand."

"Your mate, what is the field of employment she seeks?"

_What?_ "She...studied to be...a lab technician. Bio-tissues."

"She certainly sounds employable."

"You'd think...but...she's human, also. Competing with asari for jobs..." His voice trailed off, very much aware an asari with a knife was just behind him.

"Mm." The knife moved from the back of his arm, and he flinched as it moved out in front of his face, held in a black-gloved hand. The blade glistened with water droplets from the rain outside, and the very tip was reddened with a small smear of his blood.

"DNA scan, Allen, _if_ that is your real name. Shortly, I will know everything about you, so I suggest that you live a clean life. Tell your mate to continue her career path, and do not be discouraged. I suspect an element of subtle racism may be at play, common on Illium. Things may look up for her soon, if I like what I see from her. Favors can be a more powerful currency than credits, and I am owed a great many of them. This would be a trivial matter."

The knife moved forward as the asari leaned ahead, her face coming up to just beside his ear, and she dropped another credit chip next to his own.

"Ten thousand. Take care of your family, and apply yourself to your job. No more _little things on the side_, do you understand?"

"Yes!"

"Rest here. When morning traffic begins, join it and drive as you normally would. Go to work tomorrow, and every day. If the restaurant owner asks, say the team went inside, there was an explosion, so you panicked and left. You do not know _anything_ else. Keep the lie simple, yes?"

"Yes! I understand."

"I will be watching. Be a good man, Allen."

There was a movement of air, and after a moment, he turned and looked out the open side door of the van.

Only the rain could be seen.

She was gone.

* * *

Thirty-three minutes later, Liara T'Soni was crouched on the flat rooftop of the restaurant _Sadru_, hidden in a shadow beside an air vent, oblivious to the pounding downpour as she bent low over her omni-tool again, shielding it with her hood.

"Greetings, Dr. T'soni," spoke the remote VI in a dispassionate voice.

"Hello Cipher. The restaurant _Sadru_. Identify owner."

Back at her office, banks of machines calculated trillions of lines of code, passing through electronic tendrils covering all of Illium. "Processing. Dehya L'Zoh."

"Launch scans for criminal activity, financial irregularities, communications during the last thirty days - with a weighted focus on those involving unusual sums of credits to non-business entities."

"Processing. Positive marks. Probability ninety-three."

"Cross-reference with Nyxeris, finances and communications."

"Positive marks."

"Cross both with known Broker agents, last twelve hours only."

"Processing. Positive marks. Dr. T'Soni, an extrapolation exists."

"Yes?"

"Dehya L'Zoh has positive markers regarding indirectly exchanged funds with three of the five individuals identified and involved with the recent assault upon Council Spectre Shepard, according to police records I was able to access. Dates and amounts are identical. Direct transfer does not exist, however. Circumstantial, possibly coincidental."

"Yes, possibly." Dehya would not live to see the next sunset, Liara decided. Beyond all other things, she may be the last link connecting Allen to tonight's events. As she scanned her dagger and briefly perused the results - _Allen Rogowski, in a common-law relationship with Margaret Baribeau_ - she noted that four, and soon to be five, lives will be taken. Perhaps one could be saved. It may allow her to sleep well enough, when she found the time for it.

As for what she must do to Nyxeris, she held no such hopes.

_Be a good man, Allen._


	33. Tools of the Trade

The shuttle simultaneously sheared to the left and plummeted briefly, but violently, forcing Shepard to slap his palm against the ceiling of the cockpit to prevent being lifted from his feet. As it was, his stomach felt like it had just leapt into his throat, seeking escape from his body. From the main passenger compartment behind him, the _Normandy_ captain heard Kasumi stifle a high-pitched curse, cutting it off in mid-utterance.

"Whoa! Sorry, shit is _very_ choppy. Strap in, Commander, 'less you wanna bounce around inside of this thing like a rubber ball." Jacob's voice was tight as he piloted with his head turned perpetually to the left, watching his instruments. The blizzard was so severe that visibility was absolutely zero, forcing them to fly instruments-only.

"ETA?" The N7 commando stumbled back to the passenger bench - nearly falling into Kasumi, who held out her hands to protect herself before he recovered - and sat heavily on the bench opposite her. Quickly, he buckled in.

Jacob replied into his hands-free headset. "Four minutes. Hope you guys packed an extra sweater, it's nasty out there."

"Had some trouble locating my stealth parka," muttered Kasumi, pulling her hood lower on her face. For a moment, the thief bent forward and looked through the cockpit opening to the primary external display, over Jacob's shoulder. The sleet pounded the camera lens, driven by the swirling, gusting winds that pushed the shuttle about like a toy. Just _thinking_ about going groundside in hellish deep-freeze was lowering the temperature of her blood.

Shepard tapped the side of his helmet, activating his comm. "Shuttle two? Report."

There was a burst of static, then a crackle. Then two loud spikes of _clunk_ like someone had dropped the headset. Shepard grimaced and decreased the volume in his comm from seventeen percent, to twelve. Enhanced hearing was doing him no favors right now.

"_Hey, Captain dumbass! Nice work to take us to fucking _Hoth_ so I can freeze my tits off. If you think you're stuffing me into a dead tauntaun..."_

In the other shuttle, Garrus, Jack, and Zaeed were coming in as backup. In the event that something went wrong, the severe weather at the "cold pole" of Lorek would hinder assistance or rescue time. Better to provide it up-front just in case.

More clunking, static, and a muffled background shout of _fuck you_, followed by a unintelligible mutter.

"_Shepard, uh, Garrus here. Sorry about that. My co-pilot has been temporarily denied headset privileges after she slapped mine off my head and staged a short mutiny. We're ok. Weather is a mess, and it's a bumpy ride, but nothing we can't handle. I really have no clue what she was talking about, though. What's Hoth?"_

There was a muffled female voice, sounding incredulous.

"_I only watch human war movies."_

Muffled yelling.

"_Fine! I'll watch it. Spirits, you're a pain in the a..."_

Shepard toggled his own radio. "If you two are going to argue the whole way down, turn your comm back off."

"_Whoops."_

Shepard smirked. "And then tell her 'I'm pretty sure they only smell bad on the outside'." He ignored an odd look from Kasumi.

After a silent pause, the comm crackled again with the sound of his tolerant sigh. _"She laughed, held up her hand, and asked me for a 'high three'. I just looked at her, so then she called me an 'asshole'. Are we entirely certain there isn't a turian ship I can serve on, somewhere?"_

* * *

_####_

_Shepard,_

_-I am on Illium, yes. When you arrive, visit my office and Nyxeris will see to your welcome, if I am not immediately available._

Liara paused. Yes, in the event this message was intercepted and got back to her, best for her to think all was normal.

_-It will be good to see you, ag..._

Deleted. The asari rubbed her eyes in frustration. The continued reliance on stims over rest was affecting her judgement. Say too much and the evidence of a personal relationship will arise. Bad enough the whole galaxy knew they were former crew-mates in the mission to apprehend Saren.

_-If you are visiting in person, I trust that means you are up and well enough recovered to..._

Deleted. His recent incapacitation did not need to be broadcasted to whoever could be spying on her.

_-Take care._

_-Liara_

_####_

Shepard possessed an uncanny sense for danger. Perhaps he'd pick up on the message, if he got to Nyxeris before she did.

The rain had never let up for a single moment in the next two hours until the teasing of dawn, and Liara was cold, tense, and increasingly miserable. Her eyes stung with fatigue, and she blinked them furiously to work away the stiffness, even holding out her hands to collect cold rain water to splash and rub into her face. Finally, she retrieved a slender red case from a pouch on her hip. Opening it and taking out her final stim needle, she jabbed it angrily into her thigh; welcoming the sting. _Five stims in a row, replacing sleep. Fifty-three hours without it._

Her stomach churned with stress, exhaustion, and hunger all at the same time. She had one more protein bar on her, but felt nauseous at the mere idea of consuming it. _Reaching my end, I need to rest and recover. Sleep is a weapon, Shepard used to say. The soldiers who have more of it can win, all else being equal._

Activating her omni-tool for a moment, shielding it again from the pounding rain, she reviewed Dehya's file, taking note yet again of her official photos, memorizing the facial markings, the set of her eyes. She would have, at best, milliseconds to decide between killing or staying her hand. The criminal asari was rumored to be an above-average biotic and there could be no mistakes.

Closing her eyes as the rain washed over her, she savored the warm tingle that swept through her as the stimulant drug took hold. _Now I will only be twitchy and hollow-feeling rather than being dull and hollow-feeling._

The headlights of the skycar playing over her eyelids brought her back to the now, and she snapped open her eyes while keeping the rest of her body frozen.

_Just as expected. Arriving over an hour before the other employees show up, to begin prep-work and receiving the produce delivery of the day. Not all criminals sleep in, I see. _Cipher's hacking and investigation of the last month of her extranet and comm usage from this location, had told her all she needed to know about Dehya's daily habits.

Falling to her stomach next to a puddle still being churned by the downpour, Liara crept forward and peered over the ledge as the asari she presumed to be Dehya L'Zoh hurriedly moved from the skycar to the back door of the restaurant, letting herself in with a pass from her omni-tool. Pausing before closing the door behind her, she again waved her omni-tool and the skycar's lights darkened, the engine powering down. _VI piloted. Good. Nobody else to deal with._

Below her the door closed solidly.

_Now._

Feeling a burst of adrenaline, Liara pulled herself over the ledge and dropped to the ground noiselessly, decelerating herself with a small pulse of her biotics. Turning, she whipped off her raincoat to reveal her black commando armor. Liara slapped her hand on the door's sensor, and despite the red locked status displayed, it slid open immediately. The information broker had hacked it hours ago, and Dehya had unknowingly 'unlocked' an already open door.

Liara burst into the hall as her vibro-bladed knife appeared in her hand, and she felt it hum to life in her palm as she thumbed the actuator button in the hilt. Before the broker's target had taken her fourth step inside, Liara was upon her.

* * *

"Hard landing! Stop and pop! Target entrance at my ten o'clock, twenty-five meters!" Jacob's voice rang out over the interior of the shuttle as he shouted over his shoulder back into the passenger bay.

Kasumi reached up under her hood and lowered dark goggles over her eyes, and slipped up her breathing mask to her face, tightening the strap. Lorek did have breathable atmosphere, but it was extremely thin - forty percent of Earth standard - and bitingly cold in this region. Having her lungs frozen while she gasped for air wasn't her preferred method of slow asphyxiation. The thief grabbed the straps over her chest, bracing herself. _I'd forgotten that Jacob was a corsair, makes sense he'd be in love with piloting jargon. What does stop and pop even mean? I assume hard landing is..._

The shuttle abruptly _thumped_ solidly into the thick snow, compressing it down and sticking the vehicle in place, snapping Kasumi against her restraints and pressing the breath from her. An instant later, Shepard yanked the release binding him to the bench, surging to his feet with incredible quickness for a large man in heavy armor. In one motion, he yanked open the door - catching the full force of the blizzard as it blasted the interior with frigid air and biting ice crystals - and leapt outside, vanishing into the blinding whiteness.

"Shuttle one on the ground." Jacob's voice crackled in her ear, even as she saw him fumbling with the five-point harness in the cockpit.

_Dammit, move! _Not for the first time, Kasumi was struck by the contrast of the solidity and stillness of Shepard while aboard the _Normandy_, and the furious pace he could push while in combat operations. It was like trying to keep up with a runaway train. The thief tugged the release on her own harness, and in two steps - running past Jacob, who was still extracting himself from the pilot's seat - was springing out into the blooming glare of the frozen unknown.

* * *

Snapping back to consciousness, Liara was first aware of the cold raindrops sharply pelting her face, followed by the chill along her entire back, going from her legs to the back of her crest.

_Outside. Lying in the cold mud. Rain on my face._

Squeezing her eyes closed and gritting her teeth with the effort, Liara rolled to her side, groaning with the sharp pain that blossomed through her left shoulder as she did so.

_Dehya. Biotic Throw put me right out the door. Must have landed on the back of my neck and shoulder. Separated it? Get up. Fight. Do something, fool!_

Wrestling herself to her knees in the puddle she landed in, the asari broker opened her eyes, relieved to see it was still full darkness, at least. Little time may have passed, perhaps just seconds. Struggling to her feet, she wobbled for a moment, then stumbled to the back door of _Sadru_. Her left arm hung limply, causing her searing pain with each step, and she held it with her right hand, pinning it against her body to minimize movement.

_Sadru's_ back door was wide open, as one of the panels was warped outward and hanging loose in the frame, while the other was on the ground in a mangled, contorted shape.

_Shoulder injury question, answered. If I'd not have had my own shields up she'd have crushed me when I went through it._

She didn't remember going through the door, and her head was starting to buzz with pain, stifling her attempts to focus on the missing moment.

What she saw inside made her pause, and lean against the doorway in relief. Dehya was lying flat on her back in the center of the hallway, in a small pool of dark purple blood. The hilt of Liara's knife was protruding from between her breasts, giving obvious indication as to the cause of death.

1

_She acted quickly, and as powerfully as rumored. Hit me with biotics even as the blade went into her heart._

Liara painfully bent, avoiding touching the pool of cooling blood with her muddy shoe, and retrieved her blade. Dehya's heart had stopped pumping minutes ago, so there was no release of life fluid at all, just the disturbing feel of pulling the knife from a piece of meat. She wiped the bloody weapon on a clean area of the asari matron's fine dress, and deliberately ripped an expensive-looking necklace from the corpse - hard enough to leave a mark on the back of the neck that the police would certainly find.

_Steal what you can. Create the possibility that this was a robbery gone wrong. Finish up. Escape. Need to recover, to rest. No mistakes, now. Vulnerable to error._

Proceeding inside the office, scanning as she went for hidden cameras or listening devices, and finding none. Hardly surprising, as it would make no sense to record her own meetings involving criminal activity. Liara ransacked Dehya's office to complete the appearance of robbery, taking small valuables she found.

Finding a small wall-safe, she took the time to crack into it with an expensive - and very illegal - software she had purchased some time ago from one of her salarian technology contacts. It took several precious minutes - the safe was actually of very high quality - before she liberated her victim of what appeared to be in excess of four hundred thousand in credit chips, tucking them into a tiny pack that was snugged against the back of her waist.

_Thank you for funding the war effort with your profits, Dehya, criminal and otherwise._

Moving back outside, she retrieved her raincoat, and quickly gained entrance to Dehya's luxurious skycar - still warm from the restaurant owner's arrival - and slumped in the driver's seat. Liara took a moment to roll her head back, and closed her eyes against her pain and exhaustion.

_Pausing too often. You can do this. Just a little while longer, then you can rest. This is for Thessia. For everyone._

_Isn't it?_

_I am killing to save lives. No. Not this time. I am killing to save only myself._

_When did this begin? Who am I, now?_

The vehicle rose up into the rain that pounded Nos Astra, and departed. The information broker would ditch the vehicle into a river - something else for the authorities to spend time on as a false lead - and retreat to one of her safe-houses. Liara kept a small trash incinerator in all but the two smallest of them, for the purpose of disposal of evidence. Everything she wore right now counted as such, and she cared for none of it. They were simply tools in the craft of killing.

Liara would leak evidence of Dehya's criminal activities, and the authorities would - over time - lower the priority of solving this murder in interest of simple practicality, and the realities of dealing with workload. They would write it off as organized crime internal warfare, if they didn't get lazy and dismiss it as a simple robbery. If all else failed, Liara had a fairly significant list of law enforcement officers with something in their history they'd rather not have known. The issue could be buried with the placement of a few anonymous messages.

The investigation would be perfunctory, and the crime would never be solved.

* * *

Slamming his shoulder into the wall to halt his momentum, Shepard came to a sudden stop next to the main door. The snow that had already accumulated on his armor was jarred free and fell to join the rest at his feet, knee-high and dense. His ever-present modified Carnifex filling his fists and pointed down, he placed his back to the wall and waited for Kasumi and Jacob to catch up with him. Stealing a glance at the door lock, he did a double-take and frowned.

_Green. Unlocked. Why?_

On the opposite side of the door, Kasumi shimmered and materialized, filling out a void in the blowing snow he'd not even noticed - and he mentally scolded himself for that. Holding her ivory-handled M-12 Locust up high - a priceless artifact of history, it had been the murder weapon of _two_ presidents in years past - she caught his look, and followed it to the door lock.

"It's...open," Kasumi stated, unnecessarily, just as Jacob arrived in his full Cerberus hardsuit with his M-22 Eviscerator shotgun in hand.

"Yes." His face was invisible in the N7 environmental closed-faced helmet, the visor mirrored.

"Shuttle two, landed." Garrus' familiar flanged voice crackled over the comms. They were assigned to watch the rear of the facility.

Kasumi watched the commander's helmet bob once. "Copy that," he replied, not looking away from her.

"A mistake, or a trap?" Kasumi asked. The skin that was exposed in the areas between her goggles and her mask was already starting to sting.

"This is a pretty obscure location. Likely a mistake, but we'll assume it's a trap. Flashbang the room, then let us armored goons go in first." Shepard nodded at Jacob, who returned the gesture.

"Yessir. Knew you guys would be good for something, eventually." Stowing her Locust, she reached out and touched the door lock with her left hand. As the doors slid open, her right came around and flicked a concussion grenade inside.

"Fire in the hole!" the thief added cheerfully. "Awesome, always wanted to say th..." Her words were cut off by the light and noise that exploded from the door opening. A split-second later Shepard was rushing inside, hand cannon leading the way and Jacob hot on his six. As her SMG filled her hand again, Kasumi shimmered as she folded into her cloaking device and vanished.

Sweeping the Carnifex from side to side, Shepard surveyed the smoking interior of the room. At his left shoulder, Jacob was similarly scanning back and forth with the barrel of his shotgun. Small fires were burning in several places, and Kasumi's stun grenade still glowed with heat in the center of the room. Three Eclipsed-armored bodies were on the floor, bullet-riddled and lying in pools of blood. _What the hell?_

A deafening blast rang out, and Jacob was thrown several meters to Shepard's right to crash into a cargo crate. Spinning left while crouching to see cover, Shepard spied a heavily-armored human female soldier awkwardly working an assault rifle with one arm, the other clamped to her side.

Moving her hand from the secondary firing option - a concussion shot, he realized - she slid her grip to the primary spot and tucked the weapon against her hip. Even in the low light, his enhanced vision picked out fine details faster than he could mentally process them. Wearing no helmet, he could see her squinting from the effects of Kasumi's grenade, and one eye was obscured by her long, dampened brown hair. Wide-set eyes, tanned skin, a proud nose..._what?_

"Ash! It's me! Shepard! It's Shepard!" A burst of automatic fire from her Avenger drove him to the floor, and he rolled away. Her partial-blindness robbed her of accuracy, and only a round or two found his shields.

_Flashbang grenade, no helmet. She'd be half-deaf._

"CEASE FIRE! IT'S SHEPARD!" he bellowed blindly around the cargo container he'd landed behind, after ripping his own helmet off to gain volume.

The sound of a rifle clattering to the metal floor. Silence. Risking the exposure, the N7 commando peered up and over his cover.

Making a gurgling sound of distress that struggled to get past her constricted windpipe, Ashley was standing - arched up on her toes and bent backwards. Both of her bloody gauntlets were up, clamped on the same forearm of Kasumi Goto that was wrapped around her throat. The thief's prized monomolecular-edged _Wakizashi_ sword was poised high above them both, blade-down like an oversized dagger, an instant from striking. However, Kasumi's eyes - her goggles were likely tucked up under her hood - were now turned to Shepard. At the sound of his shouting, she'd frozen in place just before taking the human marine's life.

The master thief looked down at Ashley's contorted features as she choked out a gasp of pain again, then turned her gaze back to Shepard.

"Oh. It's, uh, whatsherface."

Kasumi shrugged.


	34. Under the Northern Star

Shepard was up and rapidly closing the short distance between him and the two women locked in combat before Jacob had even picked himself up from the floor.

"Kasumi! She's hurt, ease her down." The commander ripped his helmet off as he approached, reaching out to put an arm under Ashley's armored back to assist with supporting her weight.

"Wha...?" The thief looked down, while lowering her short sword. The front of the bigger woman's armor was dented by disruptor round impacts, and judging by the blood leaking down her front, at least one had punctured through. Williams felt the grip loosening around her throat, and drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

"Oh! You're...uh, sorry! I thought you were a bad guy, really!" Dropping the blade to the floor beside her with a clatter, Kasumi went to one knee - lowering the groaning soldier to a sitting position with Shepard's help. Immediately after, the N7 commando assisted Ash with lying back. She gasped out a cry of pain as she was moved, then a small moan of relief after she was fully prone.

"Yeah...no...problem. Honest...mistake...I'm sure," Ashley bit out caustically, through her clenched teeth.

Kasumi shook her head. "It was! You were shooting wildly at Shep here - although admittedly, I did blind you first. _I think she's angry at me_." Kasumi stage-whispered the last part at the Normandy captain.

Ashley's head lolled to the side, sweat dotting her forehead. "Not sure...I like...your...new friend much...Shepard."

"One little near-stabbing-to-death and we're off on the wrong foot." Kasumi's painted bottom lip took on a slight pout. Behind them, there was a scuffling sound as Jacob retrieved his shotgun, and moved to join them.

"We need any medical supplies from the shuttle?" the Cerberus soldier asked with a concerned frown.

Ash's eyes opened to slits, and they played over Jacob's white and gold Cerberus armor. Her upper lip curled up into a sneer, but bit back the biting remark she had at the ready.

"We'll see in a moment. Might be ok with just this." Shepard took out one of the medi-gel applicators from his thigh-pouch and stuck it in his teeth, feeling along Ash's side for the breastplate release clip. Her hardsuit was a commercial version, not Alliance standard, and the snaps were in a different location. Shepard snorted quietly as he realized her equipment practically screamed "deniable ops" with its complete lack of Alliance identification.

The sound of gunfire from rooms distant reached them, and Jacob quickly moved to the doorway leading to the next area. "Firefight still goin' on, somewhere. Looks like we didn't miss all the action, after all."

"Kirrahe...and his tech...Jeban...they're with me. Fighting...Eclipse..." The words came out in short bursts with her rapid, shallow breaths. Breathing deeply obviously was causing her discomfort.

"Captain Kirrahe is here?" At Ash's silent returning nod, Shepard looked up to where Kasumi knelt across from him. "You and Jacob, go assist. Look out for two salarians who aren't in Eclipse colors."

The thief nodded at Jacob. "Let's roll, Operative Beefcake." In return, he cocked an eyebrow at her, but followed silently when she moved to the hallway.

Shepard shook his head. "Can you give your guys a heads-up, Ash?"

The Alliance Marine pressed her chalky lips together and nodded, reaching past him in the direction of her helmet. "Comm."

Shepard reached out and picked up her helmet, handing it to her. She took it wordlessly, then grabbed his wrist and led his hand to the bottom of the breastplate, just above her hip. "Here...bottom edge." He nodded and released the armor latch, as she toggled the helmet comm, holding it next to her face.

"Ash here. Two...incoming friendlies...from behind. Humans. One of 'em...is Cerberus...don't shoot him..._for now_."

Shepard's enhanced hearing picked up the highly-compressed audio of Ash's comm, and recognized Kirrahe's voice. "Acknowledged! Could use the help. Status, Chief?" Gunfire crackled in the reply, echoed by distant, muted gunfire an instant later as the sound made its way up the hallways to them.

"Still breathin'...boss. Have...some help here...with me. Ash out." Ashley carelessly dropped the helmet by her side again, and slumped back to rest her head on the floor. Except for one raised knee, she was completely prone as he knelt beside her.

Sticking a medi-gel applicator into his teeth and holding it there, Shepard hurriedly removed the front panel of Ash's breastplate and tossed it down beside her, revealing the dark, tight under-armor beneath. It was soaked in blood and leaking down into her hip and thigh armor.

"Should...buy a lady...dinner first...Shepard." Her eyes were closed, and she looked pale, but her voice was strong enough to reassure him that her life wasn't in imminent danger.

He smirked as he replied, not looking at her and mumbling around the applicator in his mouth. "We have a Cerberus janitor cooking our food for us, are you _sure_ you want me responsible for your next meal?"

There was a fresh burst of gunfire and explosions in the distance, inside the complex.

Shepard's omni-tool glowed orange as he held it to his face. "Kasumi? Report."

The returning voice was an electronically amplified whisper, which meant she was likely cloaked and observing. _"Reinforcements arrived - maybe from a sub-level. Jacob and the salarians are holding them off, while I'm flanking to use grenades. Could use a hand...at least twelve targets."_

Garrus's voice broke in. _"We're just outside, ready to support. Jack is whining about the cold, anyway."_

Shepard thought quickly, analyzing his available assets. "Send her and Zaeed in, you hang back and watch that door in case anyone gets past them. We're here for a case full of data chips, _nobody_ escapes this place, all understood?"

After a series of hasty acknowledgements came back in reply, he closed the connection and returned his attention to Ash.

There was a messy puncture wound partially visible through the material, just under her rib cage on left side. Taking Ashley's own knife - a bayonet, he belatedly realized - from a clip on her thigh, he pinched the material away from her skin as she gasped quietly, then firmed her mouth against the sensation. He started gently sawing the material away to make a larger opening.

"If I knew...a good lookin' guy...was going to peel...my armor off today...I'd...have dressed up a little." She bit out tightly. "Might have worn...that red bra I packed."

Shepard shook his head, and grinned as he worked. "Shut up, Ash. You're breathing like a volus, which isn't especially hot." Pushing back the material, he gently examined the leaking wound. "Hey, want to play good-news, bad-news?"

Ashley blinked and pursed her pale lips. "No."

"The good news is, I'm pretty sure you're not going to die."

"I said...I didn't..."

"The bad news is..."

The wounded marine growled her annoyance.

"...you have some armor fragments in the wound. I can medi-gel you up, but you need actual medbay attention. Does whatever ship you arrived here on have an infirmary and CMO?"*

Ashley grimaced. "No. We have...a tiny medbay...and a VI assist...for the combat medic."

"Miranda will likely have a stroke, but I think I'll be taking you to the _Normandy_ for a visit. Dr. Chakwas will be happy to see you, at least. And _no_, you won't be captured and interrogated by Cerberus. Yes, you're allowed to say no. No, don't be an idiot and _actually_ say no. I'm still a Spectre and I'm Council-approved, for what it's worth."

"Be nice...to see Chakwas again to...oohiiOWW!" Shepard was applying medi-gel to the raw wound, pinching it shut as he did so.

"Sorry, this will just keep you stable until we get you up there. You should drink something."

"Y...yeah. My fluid canteen is...under my butt. May have to feel...around a bit."

"Uh huh. Arch your back a little, then." Shepard had to smirk, as he could guess what was coming.

"I like it when...you're bossy, Skipper." Obediently, she rolled slightly to one side, and lifted her bad hip up from the floor to allow him access to the pouch at the back of her belt. He slipped out the rectangular bottle, opening it and handed it to her.

"Good to see a couple of years and getting shot didn't change you, much. And you packed a red bra? Is that regulation now?"

"I've been on," she lifted her neck to lean towards the translucent green container, and he slipped his hand under her head to help hold her up as she sipped, "Thanks...a tiny ship with only salarians for about a week. So don't be flattered, you're the first man I've seen in awhile. Also, wearing secret things is fun." The numbing effect of the gel was already allowing her to breathe more deeply without stabs of discomfort.

"I hear you. I'm wearing a thong right now."

Ash sputtered into her drink, then held her side and groaned while Shepard chuckled. "Sorry about that."

"Shut up...don't do that. Listen, I'm ok for a bit...go help your team, Shepard. I promise to not croak and decompose, much."

The N7 commando nodded, grabbed a folded tarp from the cargo crates beside them and placed it under her head, then picked up her dropped Avenger. Slapping in a fresh heatsink, he placed it next to her right hand.

"Stop building a damned fort around me and _go_."

Slipping his own helmet back on, he held out his hand, and for a moment they embraced their gloves together. "Back in a bit, Ash. Don't go anywhere."

"That's funny. _You're_ funny." Deadpan face.

* * *

Morl's tech armor flashed as he skipped aside neatly, taking minimal damage as the Eclipse trooper next to him jumped and shuddered under the impact of heavy semi-auto rounds from Zaeed's M-96 Mattock assault rifle. Even as the trooper clattered to the floor in a hole-filled, bleeding heap, the salarian combat engineer was sprinting down the hallway, barely escaping the flanking maneuver these new combatants had neatly executed around them.

His ten men had dwindled to three in mere seconds, most of them flung about the room by a surprise biotic attack from a powerful, crazed human female, or set aflame from incendiary grenades tossed in their midst from behind. The situation had degraded, so quickly, that Morl took the extreme measure of shoving a human trooper into the line of fire, using him as a moving shield as he dove into an adjacent hallway. Behind him, the unfortunate soldier jerked in place as rounds from multiple weapons pierced his armor, and he fell.

The strapped case in his hand was quickly slung around his shoulder as he considered his exit plan. Both of the primary doors were compromised, but there was one vented exhaust port in the loading dock that was easily punched out for an emergency exit. Raising his omni-tool, he summoned a tech combat droid and left it in his wake to slow down pursuers, then ran forth.

The contents were a mystery, but saving this data had better be worth a nice bonus.

* * *

Garrus hated this.

There was no snow on Palaven. Blistering radiation? Yes. Snow? Not so much.

And he was guarding a door, with a rifle.

From the outside.

In a _blizzard_.

_If I ever write a book about my legendary journeys with Commander Shepard, I'll be sure to include this part. This is heart-racing stuff._

Not for the first time, he shivered in his armor. Although technically he wasn't _cold_, really - given the active temperature regulation in his powered suit and full helmet - he still had sleet and ice building up on his faceplate, and occasionally had to vigorously shake his head to clear his vision.

Garrus found himself thinking about that hot tea that Kasumi had made him.

_Visibility severely compromised. Windshear, severe. Combat ranges, close enough to spit on each other. I'm all wrong for this. Thane must have felt this way on Haestrom._

It was getting late in the afternoon of Lorek, which at this latitude was barely five hours a day. Taking a glance at the distant, setting star of Fathar, Garrus noted how it looked tiny, distant, and he knew it cast no warmth on these lands. He shivered again.

_Scratching this place off of my vacation destination list._

He'd retreated 40 meters, nearly half of the way back to the shuttle, and switched his targeting sensor to infrared. If something came out of that door, and didn't respond to radio calls, he'd drop it with a shot to the knee and figure out the teams later. Crouched down next to what must have been a rock - hard to tell with everything covered in a thick blanket of snow - he brushed clean the scope of his Mantis and listened to the radio chatter.

"_Clear. All targets down here. Those two are still aliv..." _Jacob's voice, obscured at the end of his transmission by loud, crashing static that sent feedback into the audio.

"_Not anymore they ain't. Guess the girl ain't a fan of Eclipse." _Zaeed.

"_They don't wanna die, then don't join fuckface merc companies. Had too many run-ins with these assholes where they did shit I can't forget. So fuck 'em in the ass." Sigh._

"_Hey, uh, I just found a guy strapped to a table. Cerberus armor tossed in the corner. He's...a mess. They tortured this man to death, God." _Kasumi.

"_Still think I was being too fuckin' harsh, Zee?"_

"_Nah, I was gonna shoot the bastards myself."_

"_Maybe he never gave up decryption keys, so they went too far and they killed him unintentionally." _Kasumi again, thoughtfully.

"_Cut the chatter, everyone. The __**data**__, we need to find it. Nothing wearing Eclipse colors leaves this place, or we've failed. Talk to m...whoa!" _Shepard.

"_Shep?" _Kasumi.

"_Shepard, hey! What's wrong?" _Jack, with a note of alarm in her voice.

The comm came on for a moment with only background static, then a crashing sound, followed by a gunshot that buzzed with dynamic volume reduction in his headset.

"_Shep..." _

"_I'm alright. Infiltrator tried to circle around behind us, I caught him. Keep sharp, this place isn't clear."_

"_Amateur. Not you - him. Hey, there's a pried-open lockbox, looks like something was in it, but it's empty now." _Kasumi.

"_One merc took off down that hall, one with fancy shields. Salarian." _Jacob again.

"_Assume that guy has the data until we find out otherwise. Zaeed, double-time." _Shepard, of course.

"_Checking it out. Watch my ass, Jack." _Zaeed.

"_You wish, pops. I like something a little younger. Like, under ninety."_

"_Har har."_

"_Kasumi, go dark and start searching room by room for any hidden Eclipse guys. Jacob, stay in the halls in her area and be ready to back her up. I'll tell Kirrahe and his guy to stay put, we don't want them getting popped because we're chasing a salarian." _Shepard, of course.

"_Roger that, Shep."_

"_Check in, Garrus."_

The turian sniper lifted his hand just the short distance from trigger to helmet, switching it to voice-activated mode. "Copy. I'm here, back door is clear."

"_Just heard an explosive go off somewhere. This way." _Zaeed, again.

Radio silence followed for twenty seconds, and Garrus shifted in place, gently brushing his scope clean. Snow was starting to pile up on him, turning him into a drift. _Good camouflage, at least._

"_Look...", "Dam...!", "Fucking kill it!", "Look ou...!", "Quick little bastard.", "There." _Three voices overlapped repeatedly and it was hard to pick out who was saying what.

"_What's happening?" _Shep.

"_Prick left a combat droid hiding in the corner. We got it." _Zaeed.

"_He's an engineer, then. Watch for traps." _Shepard.

"_Shit, look...right there." _Jack.

"_Aw, shit. Shepard, we got an improvised exit here, looks th' bastard set a small explosive on a vent. Snow's blowin' in. Which means the salarian got out." _Zaeed.

With a surge of energy, Garrus half-rose and started scanning the area, the infrared sensor piercing the dense, blowing snow. As he turned his head to the right, there was a blur of orange, red, and yellow that filled the entire view an instant before something smashed into his visor. It shattered into his face, while the impact drove him backwards into a drift. Flailing blindly only rewarded him with a face full of sharp ice crystals, and in that moment, something struck his Mantis hard, ripping it from his right hand to spin away in the blinding whiteness.

His comm bellowed in his ear with Zaeed's voice, but he didn't hear the words.

"_Jack, hold on!"_

* * *

_Nothing wearing Eclipse colors leaves this place, or we've failed._

Shepard's recent words echoed in her mind as she looked directly at their failure.

Jack's eyes quickly took in the scene. Second story, hole blown in the wall, bright white light and snow blasting in, propelled by high winds. The catwalk that gave access to it was littered with pieces of broken, scorched grating and shattered turbine blades. She shot a look at Zaeed, and they both quickly scanned the room for the quickest way to climb up to the walkway.

"Dammit," Zaeed muttered, craning his neck. "Nuthin' that don't lead out of this room, sending us all the fuck over the place. We'd have to double back and find a way around."

Jack's lip curled up into a sneer. _Fuck that._

She crouched down and quickly flashed back to her training of only yesterday. Samara had been exposing her to new concepts, techniques, and ideas. Trying to broaden her mind beyond mere destruction when it came to biotics. Bending areas of physics she'd never even imagined before.

Crushing things, _that_ she understood. Altering the fifth force of dark energy to change the state of mass in a contained field of physical space-time..._Christ_, there was more but her brain was starting to hurt even at the memory of the lectures. Samara was patient, like she was working with a beloved but rather dull toddler. It was grating, but Jack had firmly reminded herself dozens of times that whatever power she already had, it had been earned with suffering. This? Hardly so bad at all.

They'd started with a simple concept, or at least _simple_ in the opinion of the asari master. To her student, a mind-bendingly difficult thing. Many bruises, cuts, tubes of medi-gel, and nearly-sprained ankles later, she'd gotten the basics down.

_Down_, meaning she'd managed them a couple of times - at the very end of just last night.

Barely.

Samara had made a face at the time, the most expression she had shown thus far under any conditions. The expression had said: _Well, that could have been worse, I suppose_.

_Fuck it, here we go._

Her body flared brilliant blue light - and from the floor, a cloud of dust swirled and lifted into the air around her. Zaeed instinctively took a step back, raising a forearm to shield his eyes.

There was a burst of noise in the comm channel, a crashing-glass sound, and a gasp, all at the same time. Jack ignored it, biotic energy searing in her ears.

In a surge of liquid blue energy that flowed over her, arced into the floor, and crackled in forks out from her body, Jack surged up into the air. The mass of her body, equipment, and clothing had reduced in an instant to be less than that of a handgun.

Mass, an object's resistance to acceleration. Just the normal strength of her legs propelled her high into the air, as if suddenly thrown by a giant hand.

"_Jack, hold on!" _Zaeed's voice rasped into her ear, and echoed oddly from being able to hear his physical shout, also.

Way too far. Lorek was a low-gravity planet, sixty-percent of Earth standard.

_Aw shit._

Overshooting the mark, she completely killed her mass field just to hit the wall, her parka affording her little cushion as she slammed shoulder-first into the steel wall, bouncing from it to fall five meters to the metal grating of the catwalk. Raising a weak shield just in time to avoid breaking bones, her breath was forcefully expelled from her lungs as her ribcage slammed painfully into the steel grid.

The breathing mask around her neck bounced up and struck her nose painfully, and, unseen, her comm earpiece bounced through the grate and fell down to the first story floor.

_Christ fuck shit ow fuck!_

"Jack!"

Ignoring the voice from below, she gritted her teeth into a snarl and rose to her feet. Taking two painful steps, she dove into the blinding white light of the outside world. The howling wind and blowing snow took her away.

Below, the old merc ripped his helmet off in frustration. "Jesus Gawdamned Christ, Jack!"

* * *

"_Crazy bitch went out after him! Can't follow, the hole in the wall is up outta my reach. She jumped right up doin' some biotic shit, she's out 'n gone!"_

Shepard spun away from Kirrahe, whom he'd barely had time to greet, and activated his comm. "What? Jack? Jack, reply! _Jack!_ Garrus, do you see her?"

"Garrus?"

Silence was the only answer.

* * *

*CMO - chief medical officer


	35. In Winter

Blindly, Jack fell into open and endless white space.

Bursting out of the ruined external vent and into the howling winds of the blizzard, she pinwheeled her limbs in panic, and fell freely for several terrifying seconds before impacting into a sloped snowdrift that she never saw coming.

Tumbling out of control, she flopped and rolled until the thick snow abruptly halted her momentum, as the slope ceased. Dizzy from the experience, she lurched to her feet - only to stumble as a gust of sleet nearly pushed her down again, the frozen particles in the air stabbing at her exposed flesh like frozen needles.

"Mother-_fuck_!"

The convict quickly secured her mask to her face - Lorek had sixty percent less oxygen than standard. Using her bare hand, the biotic irritably dug snow out of one of her ears and from the neck of her Cerberus-issue parka, spitting curses the whole time.

Patting the chest pockets of her coat, she found her sunglasses were still in place. The biotic slipped them on for welcome relief not just from the snow's reflective glare - lessening now with the setting sun - but against the icy wind that felt like fangs raking at the parts of her face not covered by the breathing mask.

Bending double to shield her comm from the wind, she touched her other ear - the comm piece was missing. "Shit, shit..." She spun around, looking in the snow. Nearly impossible to see anything, no chance of finding it.

"MUH-THER-_FUCK!_" she yelled forcefully, bobbing her head in time to each syllable. There was no time to dig and search, and as she didn't carry an omni-tool - her biotics had tended to fry the civilian models she'd been able to acquire - she'd be forced to carry on while being offline from communications.

The biotic blew out a deep breath, her mask shooting twin streams of steam to the sides. _Calm down, freak-show. Business time, so get your shit together._

Jack shoved her hands into her coat pockets, dug her gloves out, and hurriedly pulled them onto her already-numbing hands. Squinting against the wind that was leaking in behind her sunglasses to bite at her eyes, she examined the rapidly-fading trail that led away from her spot.

_Looks like our salarian wiped out and made an ass of himself, too. Hope you snapped your arm, fuckface._

Already it was being blurred by the wind and snowfall, so hurriedly she started plowing through it to follow.

She'd gone two steps when there was a flash of light overhead, followed by a clap of thunder.

_A fucking lightning storm? In a blizzard? Thanks for taking us somewhere nice, Shepard._

"Fuck this place," she muttered. With a shrug, she bent her head to the wind and forged ahead. Maybe the salarian would get nailed with a lightning bolt and she'd find his charred stain at the end of the trail. For a moment, her lips twisted into a sadistic grin under her breathing mask, before she shook her head.

_Get serious, dumbass._ Shepard wanted that data. Wanted it bad. His voice on the comms today had been full of _no-bullshit, do-the-job_ urgency.

_Well, this bitch is gonna be the one to get it, so don't worry 'bout a thing, Scout._

* * *

As the Mantis flew away from his hand, Garrus blindly kicked out from his seated position in the drift. With his broken visor filled with snow - covering one side of his face and an eye - his disadvantage was clear. His salarian opponent, facing poor visibility as well, took the blow solidly on his shin. The limb was driven back enough on the slippery ground to make him stumble to his knees before the turian.

In response, the armored salarian pulled a submachine gun even as he rose to one knee - a M-9 Tempest, a model known for sporting a vicious rate of fire. Scrambling forward, Garrus desperately backhanded the weapon with his armored talons, returning the favor and knocking it from the salarian's grasp to fall into the snow.

The salarian backpedaled away with a snarl of frustration and quickly summoned a combat drone with his omni-tool, using a preconfigured quicklaunch setting. Turning heel and running into the blizzard, the engineer quickly faded from sight. As Garrus gained his footing, the drone arced a bolt of electricity into the vigilante, sending his muscles into helpless spasms. He toppled to the side with a wordless cry, torn from muscles in his throat he could no longer control.

* * *

Jack was getting closer. The salarian had been moving cautiously, the trail showing his footsteps close together. Jack forged ahead with long strides and quickly the path changed, as the footsteps became more distinct, less eroded in detail by the storm. Sensing she was closing in, she paused only long enough to dig under the back of the parka to take out her Scimitar shotgun - flicking the ammo selector to _Warp_ while cursing her gloves for their clumsiness. Tugging the hood closer about her face, she resumed her hurried advance through the knee-deep snow.

Somewhere out in front of her, she saw a pinpoint flash of light through the blur of the blasting sleet, and a moment later a muted _crack_ of electricity. Whatever that was, she felt an instinctive need to be there _now_. With a fresh surge of energy, she fought through the snow at a newly redoubled pace.

* * *

"_S...Shepard! Got past me! Think...stealing...our shuttle!" _The muffled, flanging words could only be Garrus, and Shepard pushed aside a moment of fear and worry - the turian sounded in bad shape - and turned heel to sprint back to the front of the building, the way they'd come in. Jump-skidding over tables and crates, he slammed his breather helmet back on his head as he shot past Ashley and out the front door.

"Heading to shuttle one for pursuit! Zaeed, try to locate Garrus and assist!"

Ash's head wordlessly tracked him, one eyebrow cocked in question, as he bolted past her directly to the outside storm. She raised her half-full water bottle in a gesture of silent salute.

"Okay, Skip. Catch you later, I guess."

* * *

The shock of the snow hitting his bare face through the broken faceplate of his helmet helped saved his life. Jolting him back from the edge of unconsciousness, Garrus pushed himself up to his hands and knees, even as the whine of the recharging drone off to his right gave an audible reminder that the danger was still right on top of him.

"What the f..."

Rising painfully to his knees, Garrus followed the sound to see Jack appear from the white background that extended in all directions, almost right on top of the drone. It turned and the whine pitched higher, then discharged, just as he saw a flash of biotic light from a hastily-erected shield.

Raising his omni-tool, he hurriedly sent an Overload into the distracted drone, sending its translucent form into distortion. It was shattered into nothingness when Jack's shotgun roared with a point-blank blast.

With effort, the turian put one foot under himself, his muscles still jumping and twitching from the effects of his near-electrocution. The wind gusted, blowing a fresh blast of biting snow into his open visor, and he lowered his head and shielded his face with his arm.

Jack was bent low right next to him, one gloved hand on his shoulder, and shouting next to his helmet. Her words were muffled by her mask and nearly carried away by the wind. "Vakarian! Lose your face aga-"

"GET THAT BASTARD!" the turian roared, blindly shoving Jack in the direction that the salarian had vanished. With a surprised shout, Jack stumbled away, nearly falling. "He was carrying a satchel over his shoulder! It's the data! _Get him!_"

Unable to breathe deeply in the frigid air without it feeling like ice water in his lungs, he reached into the gun-shaped hole in the snow and pulled out his Mantis. Slapping it hard with his free hand, he knocked away the snow clinging to it and lurched to his feet, turning in time to see Jack fading away as she pursued her quarry. Shielding his face again, he staggered after her as quickly as he could manage - numbed limbs fighting his every step.

* * *

A nearby lightning bolt briefly flashed the dimming whiteness into blinding intensity all around Shepard, followed by low thunder rolling unhindered through the thick snowfall in the air. As the N7 commando plowed through the storm to the shuttle in front of the complex, he toggled his omni tool to open the side door. Pushing through the snow that had already partially covered the opening, he hurried to the cockpit and into the pilot's seat. Toggling on the engines, he hit the comm.

"Normandy!"

Only digital static answered.

With a muttered curse, he heaved the shuttle into the shearing wind, snow raining off of it in huge sheets as it burst free of its white cocoon. Barely clearing the ground, the shuttle dipped its nose as the thrusters propelled it into the blinding storm.

* * *

After an infuriating delay of nearly a minute, Morl hacked into the shuttle's VI, ordering it to open the side door. Not taking the time to close it behind him, he rushed in and slammed his hand on the cockpit door sensor, and hurriedly leapt into the pilot's seat. Jamming an armored finger into _Emergency Start_, the shuttle roared to life.

* * *

Ignoring the blurry white mess all around her, Jack trudged forward doggedly with her eyes to the ground, tracking the trail. Stomping hard as she went, she tried to force feeling back into her feet, with futility. Her simple combat boots and fatigue pants were inadequate for this weather - she'd not expected to be outside for an extended time and had underdressed. Without the parka and its heavy hood she'd already be in real danger.

The sound of shuttle thrusters igniting broke her stride for a moment - before fear seized her and she broke into a floundering, desperate run. If the salarian got clear with a shuttle, in _this_ weather, he'd be lost to them. The deep snow dragged at her legs, trying to slow her.

_Run bitch, fucking go!_

* * *

Wheezing and coughing, Garrus stumbled and lurched through the storm, following the blurred trail of the salarian, freshly disrupted by Jack. He'd already fallen behind, and was losing distance by the second - simply unable to keep up with the biotic without his oxygen supply being supplemented by his helmet's environmental system.

Stopping for a moment, he bent double with a gasp. Using the tip of one of his talons, he scraped a chunk of ice out from between his face and the interior lining of his broken helmet, and realigned his targeting visor to be re-centered over his left eye. Back to having infrared vision available, he spotted her blurry, blue and yellow smudge up ahead, and resumed giving chase at the best speed he could manage.

"_...arrus, you ...ere? I ca... .aise the Nor...ndy." _Shepard's voice, distorted and missing syllables from dropped information unable to complete the encryption scheme.

The turian togged his comm. "Garrus...here." It was nearly impossible to speak; he was winded and unable to recover in the thin atmosphere. "Inter...ference...can hardly make you out. Jack is...hot on...the salarian...I lost my...air supply...falling behind," he managed to gasp out, and could only hope that Shepard could understand him.

* * *

Somewhere in front of her, the muted but unmistakable roar of a shuttle coming to life put fresh energy in Jack's exhausted limbs, providing her with a final burst of speed as she huffed breathlessly in her mask. Despite the freezing conditions and her numbed extremities, she felt a trickle of hot sweat inside her parka, running down the center of her back.

The volume of the engines increased, and she saw the first smudges of light through the blasting winds and her snow-dusted sunglasses. To her dismay, the dots of light abruptly traveled straight up as the pitch of the sound changed.

_Fuck fuck no!_

Gritting her teeth, the ex-convict surged forward for five more reckless strides. Her body flared with sudden blue light as she fell into a crouch, the snow around her feet swirling and cycloning for an instant, before - with a desperate scream of exhausted effort - she launched herself up into the storm.

At a moving target. In gusting crosswinds. Mostly blind.

_Aw shitfuck gonna break my neck this is fuckin' craz...oh shit oh shit!_

The shuttle seemingly rose up out of the intense whiteness to slam into her, all context of relative movement lost without the ability to see the ground, the horizon, anything at all. Impacting the roof of the shuttle, hard, she felt the wind burst out of her lungs and her teeth painfully click together.

The shuttle almost immediately lurched to port, and with a strangled cry of panic, she slid sideways towards the edge. Losing her grip on the shotgun, she clawed at the shuttle, but there was no hold to gain.

Howling an impotent scream of denial into her breathing mask, Jack went off the edge.

* * *

With both the main bay door and the cockpit hatch wide open, the howling of the wind nearly overpowered the noise of the engines, causing cold air and driving snow to swirl violently around the cockpit. Still, Morl heard and felt the muted _thump_ as something slammed onto the shuttle roof, and instinctively he banked to dislodge it.

Looking over his right shoulder, he painfully craned his neck to see out the open port-side bay door, as he heard a muffled cry over the environmental noise. A dark shape tumbled past the opening in the instant before a glowing hand appeared to snag the bottom ledge, slipping briefly before finding a fingertip hold.

With a growl of annoyance, he turned back to the controls. Scanning the navigation controls that provided local topology, he took the shuttle into a spiraling dive for the nearest outcropping, counting on it being layered deeply with firmly-packed ice and snow.

* * *

Biotics flaring desperately, Jack flash-reduced her mass as she went off the side of the shuttle, hoping to - if nothing else - make her impact to the planet surface non-lethal. She didn't even know how far off the ground they were, so disorienting it was to be surrounded by blinding whiteness in all directions.

Flailing her arms instinctively, her right hand caught the bottom lip of the open shuttle door. Momentum swung her, like a weight at the end of string, under the vehicle to painfully bounce off of the undercarriage, the impact nearly costing her the precarious grip.

After a dizzying moment of dangling by the tips of three fingers, she summoned a reserve of strength borne of terror and adrenaline, and pulled herself up just enough to slap her other hand on the bottom lip of the doorway. With her biotically reduced mass, a pull-up to get her torso through the doorway was only a few seconds behind, and she gasped in relief as she was able to release one hand to reach deeper inside to grab a lip on the interior floor. Exhaustion deeper than any she had ever felt clawed at her insides, ripping and shredding at her resolve, her strength, and her will to survive.

_Almost there. Hold on. One more pull. Get your knee up. Get in. Kill the fucking guy. Kill the fucker and Shepard will buy you a pizza. A real one from a restaurant with extra cheese and all kinds of awesome shit on it. Then sleep for a week. C'mon, you fucking lazy bitch, you can do..._

At that moment, the shuttle sharply banked to port and dove hard for the ground, sending her sliding sideways to crash her hip painfully into the edge of the door. Seconds later, the shuttle sideswiped the side of a mountain, and she was engulfed by a seeming avalanche of packed ice and snow.

Losing her handhold completely, she tumbled away and darkness took her.

* * *

Looking up into the biting winds, peering through his fingers to shield his face, Garrus watched - jaw dropped - as through his IR imaging sensor, the warm blob ahead of him burst into colors of energy and heat, and launched itself into the sky. He watched her converge with the heat signature of a shuttle already in mid-flight, and - sucking in his breath - saw her collide with it.

After a moment of their signatures converging into a single mess of color, the shuttle pulled a maneuver clearly meant to dislodge her, and a warmer spot than the rest nearly fell away from its mass before catching on at the bottom.

A fresh blast of ice-laced wind caught him in the face, and he turned away. Tapping his communicator, he yelled into it to be heard.

"Shepard! Target stole...our shuttle! JACK IS ON IT! REPEAT, JACK IS...!"

The rest of his words were stolen away as, with a thunderous roar, Shepard's shuttle blasted by overhead - mere meters above his head. The turian was smashed with a vortex of wind that threw him from his feet.

* * *

Zaeed rolled a grenade down a flight of flight of stairs to land at the feet of two Eclipse troopers who were still holding out, cornered, in the lower levels. As he slammed the door closed again and put his back to it, Garrus' shouted words rang in the helmet he'd re-donned; not trusting these few remaining targets to not unleash desperate, dirty tricks - such as gas attacks.

"_...JACK IS ON IT! REPEAT, JACK IS...!"_

The door kicked against his back from the force of the explosion, and there were muffled screams behind him as the incendiary grenade did its nasty work. The scarred old merc muttered and shook his head.

"Gawdamn crazy bitch, hope you know what yer doin', Jackie."

* * *

Morl was nearly thrown from his seat from the impact - which he'd misjudged and the shuttle had impacted more violently then he'd intended. The shuttle shuddered and listed to one side against his control inputs from the collision, the flight path momentarily destabilised, and the shuttle went into a flat spin. The snow that had piled into the shuttle through the open door now slammed into the back wall, and the backblast of it assailed the cockpit with a cloud of ice crystals.

Instinctively raising his arm to protect himself from the blast, the salarian glanced behind himself into the crew bay, and - to his disbelief - saw a figure struggling to rise to its feet from the newly-formed drift piled there. Clipping the side of the mountain had only served to knock the intruder _into the shuttle_. With a curse, he jabbed his finger into the _Maintain Current Position_ VI-control, and rose from his seat.

Turning and entering the crew bay, he steadied himself in the doorway as the storm tossed the shuttle despite the VI's attempt to hold position. Seeing the target struggling to rise - a human female clad in torn clothing and staining the white snow with her scarlet blood - he extended his omni-blade, an incendiary model that burst into white-hot flames as he approached.

* * *

Her body on self-preservation autopilot, Jack was halfway to her feet before her mind and her senses connected, giving her a return to thought. Looking down, she saw her hands - one gloved, one bare - planted below her in the deep snow that reached her forearms.

Already stained with smears of her fresh blood, she idly watched as a hot, thin drop collected at the junction of her eyes to fall from the bridge of her nose.

It splattered into the frozen whiteness and flowed into the crystals, making crimson spiderweb shapes.

It was fascinating.

A noise crept into her mind, a rhythmic pounding.

_Th-thrum, th-thrum, th-thrum._

The pain, distant at first, increased with every pulse.

It turned to throbbing, then, pounding. Every beat feeling like it might push her eyes out of her face to land in the snow between her hands. Where the crimson spiderwebs grew. Where the drops fell. It was pretty how the swirling flakes in the wind landed on top of the blood. Red on white, sprinkled in white.

A blink, slow and sleepy with effort. The lids dropped lazily.

Closed and held for a long moment.

Then, cracked open again.

The spiderwebs had blurred. Jack frowned in confusion.

Something was wrong.

_My head hurts so much._

_I'm so cold. I've never been...so..._

_Yes._

_I have._

_After I killed those guys, they put me away, like meat so it won't go bad. The tubes filled me with ice water in my veins, to freeze my insides. The cold, dry air came in to freeze my skin. Locked me away in the dark. Guards were laughing. Said it'd be forever, maybe._

_Saw their faces. Made sure to remember._

_How'd I...?_

_Shepard._

_He got me out._

_My amp was still-near frozen, felt like a block of ice in my neck. Overcharged it. Tore those mechs apart like they were paper. That warmed me up real fast._

_Blasted out. Killed everything that moved. Found some of those same guards._

_Put their insides on the outside, the fuckers. You fuckers. You didn't laugh then. Didn't wave bye-bye like fucking bastard kids then, did you?_

There was a _phoomph_ sound of a fire igniting, and the interior of the shuttle glowed with a fresh source of light.

Shaking her head vigorously to clear it, spraying more blood into the snow, she looked up. The salarian was walking towards her, one hand covered in a blaze too brilliant to look directly at, his helmet covering his features and lending him a robotic appearance. Just as she looked into the mask, she saw his eyes blink once, then narrow in caution. He paused.

Yellow, glowing slabs of tech armor fields flashed to life and surrounded him. Satisfied, he came forward another step.

_Get up._

_Just stand. Stand up!_

_Do it. Now! Get up! For fuck's sake, just do it. You didn't go through all that shit to die like this._

_No._

_Oh, shit. No._

Her battered, frozen body refused all commands. Her hands felt like shapeless clubs at the end of her numbed arms. For all she could feel of them, her feet may as well have been missing.

The pain throbbed in her skull, and her helpless gasping filled her lungs with empty, impotent air. It offered nothing but the promise of an icy death.

Nothing was left. She was spent. Empty.

The salarian drew back his arm, the flaming omni-blade poised in the air for a moment.

A crashing, shattering, splattering sound happened all at once. Like a hammer smashing a dinner plate, the salarian's armor burst and several small pieces peppered the vehicle interior. He was lifted from his feet to impact the shuttle wall, opposite the open bay door.

Green fluid exploded from his left shoulder, raining over the huddled human as well as the wall and ceiling around her. Hot green blood landed in her open, panting mouth, and she recoiled away while gagging. On her frozen flesh it felt boiling hot, like a mug of coffee hurled into her face. The coppery taste was sour and rancid, horrible.

Sliding to the floor, the salarian rolled to his back with a groan. She could see his eyes again, wide with shock. They asked the same question she herself had.

_What was that?_

* * *

Nearly a kilometer away, a figure stood in the raging storm like a statue.

He'd not even been sure he had the right target in the IR reading. A warm blob approaching another warm blob. Formless shapes told no tale of friend or foe.

Until one warm blob - with a glowing white and yellow intensity - ignited an omni-blade.

Jack didn't have one.

Through the worst storm he'd ever experienced.

A bucking and dodging shuttle.

Exhausted. Oxygen-starved.

Half-blind from the wind whipping at his face, through the shattered visor of his helmet.

His hands, betrayers, threatening to tremble.

His arms, distant and cold, dead and wooden.

Even in the lowered gravity, the Mantis was an anvil.

His beloved Mantis. Much-modified, nothing was like it.

A thousand kills on Omega alone. If he indulged in such sentimentality, it would be more notches then gun.

One shot. A fingertip, as light as one would tease a lover.

Trigger.

Recoil.

Thunder.

Perfect shot.

Shot of a lifetime.

He would never forget it.

Never.

Garrus Vakarian whispered to himself as the scope slowly fell away from his eye, the frigid wind stealing the words away.

"_Boom_, asshole."


	36. World So Cold

Jack's mouth was still hanging open in shock, barely believing what she was seeing. It had been the last moments of her life, unable to force action into her limbs to defend herself. The flaming blade would come down and take her away.

In her mind she had roared denials, furious in her outrage at the idea of losing; at failing. Helpless to do anything about it.

Now, the salarian was on the floor, rocking in agony as his life's blood trickled from the shattered plates of his armor, staining the snow green under his right shoulder. After a moment, he groaned and rolled to his left side, then slowly pushed himself to his knees. As his right arm dangled uselessly, he crawled back to the cockpit - leaving a trail of hot, jade spots in the unbroken white - even as Jack flopped forward to land on her chest, prone on the floor, her face pressed into the snow.

With supreme effort, she slowly flipped over to her back, her torn and ruined parka flopping open to expose her chest. She was soaked in a mixture of ice-water and cold, congealed blood. Her parka, shirt, and skin were ripped and shredded from the shuttle's impact against the wind-packed snow at the mountain's edge.

Pulling her shaking hands up to her face, she looked at them a moment, pale and stiff, before shoving them under her open coat and into her armpits, gasping at the stabbing cold hitting one of the few places on her body with any warmth remaining. The back of her bare head was laying in icy slush, the blood in her neck chilled and flowed directly into her brain, making her pulse pound loudly in her temples.

She jostled as the shuttle suddenly lurched, and gained speed. The wind and snow gusting in from the open door became a tornado of biting, stabbing particles that sandblasted her exposed skin. She wanted to scream from the unfairness of it, every horror was followed by a new and worse one. No such scream escaped her - she didn't have the energy left.

Fatigue assaulted her body, seemingly from all directions. The want for sleep clawed at her mind, pushing her eyes closed like heavy weights. There was no escaping it anymore: she was freezing to death.

_Is there no end to this? I don't want to go on. Just die already. Just fucking die. Just...die._

At the back of her neck, her amp - ice-cold from the snow she was lying in - stabbed her nerve endings with a tingling ache.

_Like it felt on Purgatory. When I woke up out of cryo. Amp like a block of ice in my head._

The cold air blasted over her, trying to drive the thoughts from her mind. Trying to make her forget. Trying to take away her breath.

_Cryo. Woke up angry as fuck. Ripped away the bonds. Destroyed everything, tore those mechs in half, blasted out bulkheads, stronger than I ever..._

_Ever was before._

_Ever been since._

Jack's eyes snapped open - breaking free frozen tears of pain and frustration that were attempting to fuse her lashes together - only to immediately squint closed again as the driving crystals in the swirling air threatened to grind at her exposed pupils.

_You'll get the fuck up, bitch. Purgatory. Pragia. You owe him. This is where you repay. You never owed anybody shit before, don't you fucking leave debts behind._

A tremendous, crashing impact jolted the shuttle, heaving her from the floor to flip over and roll against the shuttle wall. Jack's widened eyes caught an instant of the sight of _another_ shuttle, just outside the open bay door - seemingly close enough that she could have reached out and touched it - before it pulled away again, the blurred lights of the vehicle vanishing into the storm.

_What the fuck?!_

The jarring scene lent her a tiny jolt of energy. Just enough. Heaving herself to her knees, she wrenched forth a weak flare of her biotics, splashing over her like warm water as it enveloped her entire body. Planting an unfeeling foot beneath herself, she lurched to a standing position, wobbled, and nearly fell as the world spun around her.

Turning to the direction of the open cockpit, she saw the salarian regaining his seat after nearly being knocked from his chair during the mid-air collision. Jack's right hand flashed out, pressing bare flesh against the freezing wall, and steadying her as a knee threatened to buckle.

One step, paid for in the currency of pain.

Two steps.

_Fucking. Get. Him._

Three steps. Four. Five.

Stumbling and losing her balance, she pushed forward and fell against him, her numb hands reaching out and hooking her forearm around his throat. The salarian was dragged from his chair, screeching in pain as his ruined arm flopped with the motion. She crashed to the floor, the armored engineer landing on top of her.

It would have hurt, had she been able to feel anything.

"Got you...you...fucker!" she gasped from under him.

The small case was hanging from his one shoulder and neck, and clumsily she seized it with the crook of her wrist, trying to will the fingers to close on the strap - and failing.

The salarian slapped his hand over the omni-tool on his ruined arm, intent on summoning another tech droid to deal with the infuriating human who just _didn't know when to die_.

Jack snarled a curse and released the case, swiping at his hand as he activated a command and smashing his palm against the holographic controls.

The _Incinerate_ command flash-fabricated a plasma round, and launched it within the tight confines of the cabin, where it exploded against the inside of the cockpit just beside them. In an instant, the entire cabin was filled with a raging fireball, swallowing their combined cries of shock.

Momentarily protected by her biotic field, Jack reached deep inside, into the dark, unknown place where the last vestiges of her strength resided - and pulled out one final, crashing wave of power.

Her vision was tunneling - darkening at the edges.

_Nothing left. Nothing._

Squeezing a whimper out of her tortured throat - her face twisted by the spike of agony that crawled up her spine - a _Shockwave_ exploded from her.

The shuttle ripped open like can.

The cockpit's roof, starboard side, and half of the bow ripped away, flash-blasting them with gale forces of the blizzard. The shocking suddenness of weather exposure gave her a momentary sensation of being _outside_ before the aerodynamic loss veered the shuttle sideways in a tight, uncontrolled spin. The other shuttle was suddenly looming through the mixture of swirling flames and snow, and it filled her vision as it seemingly hurtled directly at her.

Instinctively, her still-glowing hands rose up to shield her face.

* * *

"Gawd-dammit, Garrus. If I fall into a frozen sinkhole of some sort, I'm gonna be mighty pissed."

"_Try...to step...lightly,"_ Zaeed's comm crackled in was barely able to make out the words, with the harsh wind whipping across the sniper's audio inputs.

The old merc, again, stopped and checked his omni-tool. Between the freezing sleet - yes, the weather had changed _again_ - continuously trying to coat his visor, and the glow of the holo-screen on his arm lighting up the ice particles in the air as they whipped past, it was damned hard to read the thing.

The turian's omni-tool had been malfunctioning since he'd tangled with the engineer's drone by himself, eating an electrical attack. It left Vakarian without geometric and directional data, so he was unable to navigate back to the facility - and his compromised faceplate was venting any atmosphere and much of the warmth his armor tried to generate.

Quite simply, Vakarian was lost in the storm. Cold, half-blind, and half-suffocating.

Getting a bearing on Garrus' SOS ping, Zaeed corrected his direction and set off again.

"Almost there. Keep yer pants on."

"_Bring...hot soup."_

* * *

One half of Kasumi's face leaned around the corner of the door, peering in with a single eye. "Friendly! No shooting me, please! I don't wear heavy armor. Ruins the hot ninja-girl thing I have going on."

Ashley lowered the Avenger back into her lap with an aggravated sigh. "Well, shit, I'd _hate _to stain your outfit."

Entering the room with a grin, the thief's silent, gliding steps carried her to the fallen soldier, where she crouched beside her. "Well, thanks for that. We think the site is secured, now. I came back to check on you while the fellas scope the place for a proper medbay. How are you doing?" She treated Ashley with her most winning smile.

"Been better, been worse. Help me up."

Kasumi's smile faded. "Uh, I really don't think you should be getting..."

Ash's lip curled into a displeased sneer. "Help me up, or I'll do it without you."

The thief sighed dramatically. "You're a marine, all right. _Ooh-rah?_"

Putting both hands under Ash's right arm, she heaved her to her feet with a grunt of effort. Ashley swooned for a moment, her left hand pressed firmly to her side, and bent double, breathing deeply.

"Let me guess...you're...the _funny_ one...on the ship, right?"

Kasumi's bottom lip stuck out a bit. "I'm a little hurt. I thought I was the _cute_ one."

* * *

_She ran. Measured strides. Eating up the distance._

_Long, flowing hair tossing in the wind._

_The sun. Soaring in the sky._

_Blinding and hot. Reflecting from the water._

_Baking her skin, pleasantly._

_The lazy tide lapping over her bare feet. The water tropical and warm._

_Sand. Loosely-packed and hot. Sinking into it with each step._

_No thought._

_No fear._

_Contentment._

_Running forever._

Under a closed eyelid, movement. Somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

* * *

The sun and sand faded away, leaving only the invisible sun and the beautiful heat.

An eyelid slowly cracked open, revealing a rich, chocolate-brown iris in the darkness.

Close to her and sitting on top of a vehicle-sized battery unit was a small emergency heater. It was glowing a dull red, radiating dry warmth into her face. The air she breathed in was cold, but that didn't matter. She was _warm _all over. Marvelously, gloriously warm.

Jack closed her eyes again, just to focus on the sheer pleasure of it, surrounded by secure, welcoming heat. She let out a deep, contented sigh, and crinkled the foil-like mylar blanket she was wrapped in.

_Toasty and snug. Yeah, I'll even use the pussy words. Damn, this is nice._

_That was the best dream and sleep I've ever h-_

_..._

_Where the fuck am I?_

_Okay. Don't freak out. First things first._

Without moving, she slowly took stock of her senses and body.

First, a deep, slow breath. It brought a dull ache at the peak of intake, from bruised ribs.

_Whatever._

The pounding in her head was dull, and distant. Nothing worse then a minor hangover.

_Nothing new, there._

Her forearms were pressed together, hands tucked under her chin and clutching the edge of the blanket. Slowly, she flexed her hands, wrists, fingers - rustling the foil-like material softly. They tingled and burned, but she could feel them and everything worked; nothing felt broken, dislocated, or missing. Idly, she scratched her fingers together, and the sensation was distant and muted by minor numbness. Something on her right hand stabbed her with soreness, and she brushed her fingers over the knuckles, finding a tacky scab of dried medi-gel.

_Could be worse._

Flexing the muscles in her legs without moving them, she found she was curled up tightly, her knees up high and nearly touching her elbows. First, she flexed her ankles, which were stiff and ached badly, but again, nothing felt broken. Wiggling her toes, she felt them - like her fingers - tingle and itch. Distantly, she noted that she was barefoot.

_Frostbite? Don't know what that feels like, never had it before. Nothing crunchy though, that's good._

Everything hurt. The familiar ache of physical exertion, excessive biotic use, and the feeling of being punched and kicked all over. _That_ was a feeling she knew well. Her entire childhood had been dominated by either taking a beating, or recovering from one.

_With the odd break for killing some other kid._

_Focus. Big deal. You eat bad news for fucking breakfast. Suck it up, princess._

Slowly, she stretched out one leg...

And froze in place, her eyes shooting open.

There was another leg, pressed in between her own. Warm. Alive.

A hand, resting on her hip. Experimentally, she shifted by mere millimeters to test for sensation. Correction. A hand, resting on her _naked_ hip. Her heart began to pound loudly in her chest.

Barely illuminated by the glow of the heater, she spotted her clothes propped up next to it. Her boots. Her dark fatigue pants, looking ripped and nearly ruined. The tank top she wore under the parka. Her plain, unadorned black panties.

A tickle of a breath touched the back of her neck. Warm, living flesh pressed against her bare back, her bottom, the backs of her legs.

Jack stopped breathing.

Under the emergency blanket, she was completely nude.

And she wasn't alone.


	37. Whispers

_tik tik tik, tik tik tik, tik tik tik_

"Miranda!" Joker's voice echoed from around the corner, from his seat in the cockpit. "I can hear your flawlessly manicured fingernails all the way up here! Please do something _slightly_ less annoying, like...crashing cymbals just behind my skull, perhaps?"

With a grimace of irritation at herself, the Cerberus operative made a fist to silence her hand, and set it back down on the armrest of the chair. She was reclining in the starboard and forward-most of the bridge crew stations, just short of the main airlock, and the cockpit. Close enough to irritate the pilot, evidently.

Nevertheless, sitting at her office desk, or pacing within the confines of that room, had ceased to be satisfactory. In truth, stress had been gnawing at her stomach since they'd lost contact with the ground crew, and - and even more significantly, in her personal view - since she'd lost connection to the biometric data transmitting from Shepard's armor.

She checked a chronometer display, yet again. Elapsed mission time since communications loss was now at two hours, seventeen minutes. Both shuttles deployed. Passive communications only, as the _Normandy_ was in full stealth mode.

Blind and deaf, as it turned out.

Miranda toggled one of the gently flickering holographic controls in front of her, and spoke tersely in response. "Joker, you _do_ know we have internal comms?"

"Oh, hey. Well, sure, but yelling was a lot more satisfying."

The raven-haired woman bowed her head, and pinched the bridge of her nose with one gloved hand. "Of course. EDI?"

"Yes, Officer Lawson?"

"Weather update?"

"Still excessively severe for either a successful Normandy landing, or a Hammerhead deployment. Current forecast suggests, at minimum, four more hours before a possible significant improvement. Shall I update you at an interval of every fifteen standard minutes, to pre-empt your next inquiry? This is the fifth identical occurrence of your request. I could also present you with a live-feed of surface-facing sensors with a text crawl of meteorologic..."

"No. That will not be required. Thank you." Miranda dropped her face into one palm, and slowly counted to ten.

Dropping out of stealth and moving to active communications was out of the question. Lorek was a _Batarian Hegemony_ mining world, and - although lightly populated in relation to its resources and ecology, with nearly five million inhabitants - it would have a sizable enough military presence to discourage the Cerberus ship from drawing attention to itself by appearing on their sensors.

The primary encrypted mission comm channel crackled, and was suddenly alive with a familiar, though distorted, voice. _"Normandy, Jacob. Come in, Normandy. Testing?"_

Both Miranda's and Joker's hands snapped towards _receive_ commands to open the channel - the genetically-enhanced Cerberus officer being a hair quicker.

"Normandy here!" She was not able to see Moreau's scowl.

Through some digital noise, she heard a sigh of agitation on the other end. _"Yeah. Finally got this nailed down, we think. Secure enough to focus on taking over one of the building comms and get Kasumi hacking a dish and signal-matching. Place was crawling with damn Eclipse."_

Despite the lack of a visual channel, Miranda waved her hand dismissively. "Mission status? Casualties?"

A pause. _"Right. The Council beat us here, they were after the data also. Shepard's friend from Horizon is here, and two salarian operatives. Looks like some sort of joint-op they're on. They're not with me right now, so I can speak fre..."_

"What the hell do you mean? Did they get the data? What is Shepard doing?"

"_Nobody has the data, it's off-site and running free with one Eclipse guy who broke out and disabled Garrus. Zaeed is just leading Garrus back inside, and we've lost Shepard and Jack."_

Miranda felt the blood drain from her face. "_Lost?_ What the _hell_ are you..."

"_Not __**that**__ kind of lost. Literally lost. Jack pursued the target out into the storm, and, from what I gather, he ganked one of our shuttles and took off with it. Shepard grabbed the other one and gave chase. We lost contact with both of them over an hour ago."_

"Dammit, Jacob!"

"_Hey, listen up. This place was triple the opforce we expected. Might have gone worse if not for the surprise assist from Ashley Williams and the salarians. She took a hit and we put her in a half-assed medbay we found here. Doing the best we can, Miranda. We did well to not be burying any of our own."_

"We can't get a landing in unless we break stealth, and the Hammerhead isn't deployable into those conditions. Do _not_ let those Council people get their hands on the data, when you _do_ get it."

"_We don't control the situation here, any more than they do."_

Miranda leaned closer to the comm mic, and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. "That is _Cerberus_ intel. Not Alliance. Not Salarian Union. You do what you have to do to secure it, _understood?_"

There was a pronounced pause coming from the comm before he answered. _"Yes, ma'am."_

* * *

The stainless-steel machine made a subdued, deep noise from within itself. Conical burr grinders crushed the beans gently and uniformly, so as to best preserve essential oils - blade grinders were for the poor and ignorant, one might as well use the family blender - for the brewing process. Proper mineral water imported from the arctic regions of Eden Prime was heated to precisely 96 °C before being mixed with the grounds in a vacuum-sealed chamber.

For three cycles, the solution was brought to boil just for an instant before being allowed to settle. The machine added a hint of cardamom as per the desires of the current user. A small amount of the steaming-hot, frothy mixture poured out into a thickly-bodied but tiny white mug bearing no logo or words - nothing at this base contained a trace of anything that could tie it back to Cerberus.

Dr. Radim Mirko, geneticist and bioengineer, sniffed the contents of the mug in satisfaction. It was his first caffeinated beverage in four days. A severe episode with his biotic implant had left him in incapacitated agony for nearly forty-eight hours. He'd experienced flashes of color, violent nausea, numbness in his extremities, and violent hallucinations.

_All well worth it_, the geneticist thought smugly. He was the second-most powerful human biotic alive, according to all known Cerberus - and stolen Alliance - combined intelligence.

_Finally, things are becoming civilized here. I've had quite enough of this damned camping experience, operations funding be damned._

He raised the small mug to his lips, the handle held in forefinger and thumb.

His door opened, and junior researcher Hartnett entered by a single step, clasping his hands together nervously. Radim paused, poised for a cautious sip of the hot, eagerly awaited treat.

"What is it?"

"Your attendance, sir. Comm room one, immediately."

Radim took his eyes from the researcher, and peered into his small, white mug. With a sound of utter disgust about the irritations he was forced to endure, he set the steaming, premium coffee on his desk. With a longing glance at it, he strode out the door.

Two minutes later, he was in a small, thickly-walled private room designed for only one purpose. The holographic platform flared to life, with a hum and a ring of light at the base.

Radim sighed. "Dr. Lawson, as we just noted yesterday, progress is..."

The hologram assembled a grid of blue lines, forming a human figure. Rapidly, glowing monochromatic textures were applied, and the first discernable details that reached his eyes were of a cigarette being exhaled into a puff of luminescent pixels. Before the hologram even fully assembled, it was speaking.

"...going well. I'm aware. Although I confess that isn't the point of my speaking with you today, Radim. Good to see you again. We've not spoken since you've assumed leadership over Phantom One, and I've not officially welcomed you back into the Cerberus fold."

The geneticist swallowed, hard. "Yes, sir. It's...I'm grateful for the very generous funding, and the responsibility again."

The glass of scotch was lowered from the well-dressed man's mouth. "Do not be so hasty in your thanks. It may have been my call, but it wasn't part of my projection. Dr. Lawson convinced me that your brilliance was being wasted as his assistant, and that you should return to your true calling of engineering biotic enhancement. Considering your history with your first - and only - previous project lead for me, I was understandably reluctant."

The geneticist felt like a bug pinned to a board for examination. "Yes, sir. I regret how poorly that went, sir."

Another sip of scotch. "Losing the facility and staff because of a single child disengaging from your control, followed by you vanishing for three years rather than taking responsibility? Yes, I would agree that it went _poorly_. If you were not uniquely valuable, I'd have had you _retired_ when we finally discovered you working for Dr. Lawson, after he also left us. I did, however, envision you both as being an asset for the future." The suited man savored another draw on his cigarette. "And here we are."

The blood already drained from his face, Radim focused on the business at hand as a distraction. "Sir, the project is going exceedingly well. We're ahead of schedule. Dr. Lawson's genetic foundation, his recent works with Reaper-based group-control methods, and my biotic engineering have been remarkably compatible. We are close to the production phase of our first field-testing prototype."

"Excellent. Despite the fact this is part of a top-tier Cerberus initiative at the moment, it may surprise you to know that this is not why I'm calling upon you."

"Sir?"

Another puff from the cigarette. "You have a leak. Information on your project was captured and sent out to an Eclipse individual."

Cold fear washed over the geneticist even as the hologram continued to speak.

"One of our field agents eliminated the Eclipse operative before the data could be distributed. In return, our agent was captured and taken to an Eclipse facility, where I've sent...my most valuable asset. If he is true to form, the entire location will be a charred ruin by the time he leaves." A faint, almost fond smirk touched the man's lips as he sipped his scotch again. "But this does not address the issue at hand, which is that you have a _problem_ with your staff."

"I...I don't..."

"Of course not. Fortunately for you, my intelligence-gathering resources are significant. I'll send you the identity of your leak. You may deal with her as you wish. Perhaps she can be useful in some final way. Like yourself."

The link was severed, and the Illusive Man's image dissolved into darkness.

In the silence of the room, Dr. Radim Mirko looked at the dark, dead quantum entanglement projector, and finally found his spine.

"Fuck you," he hissed.

* * *

The most powerful human biotic in existence drew in a deep, calming breath. Again, she was waging an internal war that she rarely won. Memories and emotions washed through her, battling with her logical self that, as usual, threatened to be battered, overwhelmed, and crushed.

Restrained, surrounded by men who wore white coats. They cared for her so little they didn't even bother to _fake_ a smile. Above them, in his safe little glass box, was the hawk-nosed man who never let himself be in the same room as her. Watching. Doing nothing.

Trapped in a concrete building that was her entire reality.

One child, alone.

_Freezing to death. Now, alive. Someone kept me warm. I'm alive._

_Am I grateful or just resigned to living?_

Men rushing into her prison cell, piling on her, ripping at her clothes. Hands over her mouth. Guards looking away and smirking.

For four days, they had starved her. One mealtime, the tray simply didn't come in. She yelled and banged at the door of her reinforced cell, and was ignored. The next day, again, the meal-cart went past her door without stopping.

The hunger was an agony. She cramped up with it - bent double from the pain, the emptiness - as her body consumed itself. On the third day, the all-consuming hunger faded - replaced by weariness that she felt in every cell of her body. Zero stayed in bed, limply - too weak to rise without the room spinning around her.

Passage on a worn-out little freighter, with a crew of two. A couple. The woman has a black eye, but she's friendly in a weird, guarded way. Unless the man was around, and then she didn't speak at all - she looked at the floor and was silent unless spoken to.

_She brushed my hair. Talked about how long and beautiful it was. Then she talked about how I needed to pay for my board, what little food they gave me, the bed I slept in. It was three weeks out of Pragia. I didn't know how old I was, but they guessed I was fifteen, looking me over and poking at me like I was an item to be judged for value._

_I needed the ride. I didn't know how to navigate a ship. Fuck, three weeks ago, I didn't know ships existed. Every little thing was a mystery that blew my mind. If Cerberus didn't teach it to me, it didn't exist. I didn't have credits. I only just found out what credits __**were**__. They'd washed my clothes, though. Had a tepid shower. Thought that was nice._

_After she brushed my hair, she left. She gave me a long look as she paused at the door, I didn't know what it meant. Remember looking back at her, shrugging, not knowing why she was acting strange. Then she was gone._

_The man came in._

_I needed the ride. Didn't know how to fly the ship. Didn't have credits. Didn't even know where we were goin', just that it was farther away from Pragia and that's all I wanted._

_I just needed a ride._

_All I needed was the fucking ride._

The blanket crinkled very quietly as she slowly, by millimeters, moved her arm under the material. Sliding it up her own body, until her hand closed on top of the one that was resting on her naked hip.

A large hand. Strong. Smooth and youthful-feeling, but with prominent knuckles that had hints of scarring she could trace under her fingertips. She already knew who it was. She had studied the hands, when he wasn't watching. Like hers, they had killed so very many.

Unlike hers, they had saved even more.

They'd showed her kindness, over and over again. Asking for nothing.

Once, they had pushed her away. To protect her from herself.

Brushed lightly over Grunt's casket. Blaming himself.

On Pragia, she'd run her fingers over her old desk. The one she used to cry under, as a child. Then she'd walked away, casting a quick glance over her shoulder.

His face had been a mask of bruises and bloodied cuts from the krogan's fists; fighting her fight. She didn't look at his face - she saw his hand.

Tracing the top of the desk. Following the trails in the dust left by her own fingers, only moments before.

Then he stopped. He bent to one knee.

And looked at the empty space under the desk.

She knew, right then, what he was doing.

He'd wanted to go back and save that little girl.

As slowly as she could manage, she shifted and rotated to her left, turning by degrees until she was nearly on her back. The man's large, warm, heavy hand - unmoving and unfeeling - stayed in place as she moved under it. It slid across her hip, and then her lower abdomen. Her shoulder brushed down his bare torso as she moved, excruciatingly slowly.

He murmured something in the back of his throat.

Freezing in place, she stopped her breathing. Her pulse banged in her ears. _He'll hear it_, she thought desperately, stupidly.

After a moment, she released her breath and continued. When she stopped, flat on her back now, his hand rested just below her belly-button and moved with her body as she breathed. Jack took the large hand in both of hers, pulled it slightly higher to be centered on her flat - almost hollow - stomach, and covered it with both of her own.

Lacing her fingers through his.

Jack turned her head, and looked at him.

Her heart thudded in her ears anew.

In the dark, in the meager orange light cast by the heater, she stared at him, inches away.

Fear.

There was so much of it, it wrapped around her like bands of pressure. Suffocating.

The urge to run screamed in her brain.

Before, she'd always listened. She'd run. Killed anyone who'd tried to stop her.

But it was so very warm here.

So very cold, outside of this one spot.

And as she looked into his face, so relaxed and devoid of all the things she feared to see from him - anger, judgement, dismissal, indifference - she realized this was the one thing she'd always wanted.

Just being together. Embracing. Silent. Warm.

This moment, it was her secret. He didn't know. He'd _never_ know. Here and now, alone in the dark, alone in this frozen land. This slice of time was her possession, and it could never be taken away.

She was alive. She felt, she feared, she breathed, and she felt the warmth of his skin. He'd come after her. Wherever _here_ was, he had followed her.

Being alive had never been a gift. Not a single day had been a treasure.

Now, Jack had _this_.

The biotic convict felt her eyes sting as they moistened. Her parted lips, panting quietly in the thin air and through the tightness of her throat, turned up into a tiny smile that would never be seen. A single, burning-hot tear traced sideways across her temple, to drip silently from her ear.

"Shepard," she breathed.


	38. Technical Difficulties

_[Four hours earlier]_

There was, of course, no _up_ or _down_ in the infinity of space.

Nevertheless, organic minds were evolved to seek and find an up, or a down, to satisfy the self-preservation instincts of knowing where to go when danger presented itself. Thus, one could suppose that right now, a figure was upside-down, magnetically attached to the bottom of the starboard wing of the _Normandy_. Below her, the stormy atmosphere of Lorek swirled as the planet slowly rotated. The stars slowly flowed by as the frigate orbited the planet below.

In the near-absolute darkness, a slightly larger, bulkier figure had his face briefly turned out to these sights, the lights playing across the mirrored visor of his armored environmental suit.

"'Tis fuckin' unsettlin', is wot it is," the larger form said, his voice sounding distant through the audio compression of the comm.

"Don't be so dramatic, Ken. I thought you'd be used to this," replied the smaller one, on one knee, hunched forward, and now illuminated by a shower of sparks as she expertly stripped a sub-optimal weld from a capacitor cell.

"Oi'm useta the work, fur sure yah. Usually inna enclosed dock tho'. All this...openness...ugh." He shivered so hard she heard his suit rattle.

"Mmm hmm. I don't really pay attention to that." Blue sparks flew around her visor again as Tali resumed humming with forced contentment. The planet-side mission was running long, and rumor on the ship was that communications had gone dark with Shepard and the crazy girl.

_What was her name? Come on, I was around her for two hours while playing cards. I __**was**__ drinking, though. When I think of her I can only hear a steady stream of human profanity based on various words for sexual activities. Also, I remember that I was staring at her skin the whole time - good thing she can't see my eyes. What did the old scarred man call her? Jackie? Jack! Right._

She was grateful for the distraction of work. The new _Normandy_ was admittedly a fine ship, Cerberus-built or not, but the recent upgrades had been installed with wildly varying degrees of craftmanship.

"Keelah, Ken, who installed this thing? Disgruntled vorcha?"

"Yer makin' me feel right bad, Tali. Gabs 'n me cleaned uppa few things allreddeh, but dinnah hava chance tah git tah theese bits yet, yuhsee."

The quarian paused, letting her translator slowly digest Ken-speak and make best-guess offerings to her. After a few passes, she nodded.

"Right, I think I got most of that. Well, we'll get it done, don't worry. Next time we make port, I have some ideas."

_This may be a Cerberus vessel, but it's __**Shepard's**__ Cerberus vessel and by the homeworld, this thing is going to be perfect._

* * *

"Miranda. Possible trouble." Joker's voice came from the comm, this time, and was quietly serious.

_Of course._ Reclining in the station chair, one leg crossed over her knee and willing herself to relax, Miranda tapped a flickering panel in front of her. "One moment." With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and stretched. The command-team had been on edge for four hours now.

Walking up to the cockpit, she leaned one arm on the back of the pilot's chair, unknowingly mimicking Shepard's typical posture there. She took a moment to nod at Crewman Sarah Patel, who was stationed in the co-pilot seat. They had a half-hour of shift where the duty cycle crossed over, in which they relayed any info that needed to be carried forth.

_Be nice to the crew. Show an interest._

"Hello, Patel." _That should be satisfactory._

"Good evening, Offi..."

"What do you have, Joker?"

Sarah blinked, then turned back to her controls and made a face, and Joker half-turned and quirked an eyebrow at Miranda from under the edge of his cap, before answering.

"Two shuttles are on a trajectory that looks to intercept our little Eclipse facility, downstairs." _Downstairs_ being Alliance Navy slang for _planet-side_. Joker traced his finger over one of the many displays that surrounded him, showing the two contacts, before drawing an imaginary line to the mission facility.

"Wonderful. ETA?" Miranda crossed her arms under her breasts, and cocked her hip to rest her weight on one leg. _There's always a damned complication._

"Looks like, hmm, about twenty minutes."

"Where did they come from?"

One of Moreau's shoulders raised in a half-shrug. "Not sure. We had no reason to track them when they departed, of course. But...if we assume they've traveled in a straight line - more or less - they came from...here. Small city."

"Population one hundred and sixty thousand, primarily batarian, centered around a significant platinum mining operation. Undetermined population of slave labor that may match or exceed that number. The most significant law-enforcement and security detachment in the region is located there."

Joker's lip curled with distaste, as he turned and looked up at the Cerberus operative, peering at her from under the rim of his cap. "Looks like something down there tipped off an alarm, and they're sending some cops to check it out? Maybe we can scan those shuttles for donut residue."

Miranda nodded thoughtfully, ignoring him. "Or a private security company. Or backup Eclipse forces from another site we don't know about. EDI, tap the known police communications of that area, listen for relevant traffic. They'd be talking about it. If they're actual police, Shepard won't want them shot."

Joker's eyes didn't move away from hers. "If they're _batarian _police, he might not mind at all."

The Cerberus officer snorted quietly. "I don't care for them, either. We've had some recent history. Can we land the Normandy on Lorek, yet?"

"The probability of a successful surface landing given the current conditions..."

The stubbled pilot shook his head without hesitation. "I got this one, EDI. The short answer is, _no freaking way_. The SR-1, maybe. _Maybe._ This thing? Twice as big, _four_ times the surface area. That storm would tear a wing off and we would have a _spectacular_ fireball landing. The _shuttles _would barely be airworthy in that mess, and they're little compact bricks with engines."

Miranda narrowed her eyes. "You pulled off an impossible landing on Ilos, so the story goes."

"Appealing to my manhood or something? You think I _can_ do this, I'm just choosing not to? I _did _pull off an impossible landing on Ilos, with a _Mako_. It's a light _tank, _and I dropped it like a bomb full of my _friends_ into the eye of a needle. It was absolutely, literally, a-shitload-of-people-could-die situation. And let me tell you a secret, it was _terrifying _and I did a half-decent job of pretending it wasn't. I have nightmares. Now then, in that Mako was Shepard, Liara, Garrus, and Ash. That's it. If shit went bad, we lost four people, max."

Miranda's face had grown increasingly tight during Joker's little tirade. "Moreau, it was stressed to me by the Illusive Man himself that this data is _crit..._"

Her eyes widened as Joker actually held his hand up, not looking back at her, to cut her off.

"I'm not finished. Now look around, I'm responsible for _forty-seven_ people here, minus the team downstairs right now. What would I be risking? The _whole damn ship_ that's supposed to chase down the Collectors and gloriously save humanity, adoring public? For what? To help the guys down there fight off two shuttles' worth of dudes? Listen, don't get me wrong, I don't like our guys getting shot at, but _are you fucking crazy? _Even if whatever they're after is a magic, hand-holdable gun that blows up Reapers, it's not hap..."

"Calm yourself, Joker. The answer is no, I hear you. I trust your judgement in this."

Jeff took his hat off for a moment, rubbed his face with one hand, and put it back on. "Ok, sorry. Yeah. We're cut off from Shepard 'n Jack; Tali has one of the engines offline; and we have shuttles inbound to our people who we can't reach. I'm at the end of a double-shift and I'm starting to feel it."

"Rest assured, you are normally quite pleasant, Mr. Moreau."

"Thanks for the support, EDI. Good to see your sarcasm is coming along."

"I've put in extra reading on the subject, thank you for noticing. Was that well timed?"

Miranda turned and looked out of the cockpit starboard viewport, and rubbed her bottom lip with a forefinger. "Has the weather improved enough for a Hammerhead drop?"

His SR-2 cap went side to side in a negative motion. "Those things are _horrible_ in arctic conditions. The mass thrusters will ice up, and _then_ all we've added is more people that need rescuing. The blizzard will have to settle enough so the thing isn't sucking a continuous feed of ice particles into the fans. This is the _worst_ place to deploy a Hammerhead, and its biggest weakness. Well, aside from 'shoot it with a handgun and it explodes'. Man, a Mako would be sweet right now. Can we get one? Shepard _loves_ those things."

Mimicking his earlier gesture, Miranda rubbed her face. Her eyes burned with fatigue and stress. "Short-sighted of me, anyhow. Releasing commercial-spec shuttles is one thing. If we put down an IFV*, and the local military pick it up, they'll likely mobilize an aggressive response."

"Huh. Hadn't thought of that, but it sounds about right."

"_Dammit_."

Joker nodded, thoughtfully. "Yeah. That sounds about right, too."

"I'll communicate with them, if nothing else they can at least be warned."

As the Cerberus operative's heels clicked back down the command hall to the CIC, Joker felt Sarah's eyes on him, and he turned to return the look. The coffee-skinned woman's eyes were nearly black, but sparkled in the thousand lights of the cockpit.

"You were really ready to get in her face about this. I've never seen anyone talk to Miranda like that." Sarah's voice was warm with quiet admiration.

"Aw, that wasn't anything. We had a decent-but-weird chat once. Had a semi-understanding come out of it. Don't get me wrong, she has all the humanity of a box of door hinges - and that's _me_ talking - but I kinda can work with her, now. Flying for Anderson was no piece of cake, either - dude was _gruff_."

"I don't know anything about him, except he's the councilor now. What do you think of Shepard? I was terrified of him when he first showed up here. I could just feel him looking for an excuse to kill something in a Cerberus uniform, and those eyes of his...he looks like bird of prey, sometimes."

Jeff faced the controls in front of him, not looking at Sarah anymore. "What do I think about Shepard?"

_I think the whole fucking spineless galaxy piles their shit on him, and he doesn't know how to say no, and then I fucking killed him. Now he's with Cerberus and everything is fucked up. We goddamn well took out Saren and killed a Reaper, which still blows my mind. His funeral was hardly done when the brass started sweeping shit under the rug. I'd fly this boat right into the fucking Citadel and wipe them out, if I thought it would give him his life back. That's what I think._

With a grunt and the clenching of teeth, Joker pushed himself to his feet. "I need some sleep. I'll see you in eight."

* * *

_[Four hours later]_

Biting her bottom lip, Jack turned towards the sleeping commando slowly, the mylar blanket crinkling with her motions. The upper edge of it pulled away from his neck, exposing his round, muscled shoulder in the meager orange glow of the heater behind her.

Painstakingly, she slid one palm slowly up his arm, marveling at his bulk and strength - briefly laying her slender forearm atop his massive one, and snorting quietly at how he dwarfed her.

Her fingers traced lightly over his biceps and deltoid, larger than her thigh.

_Maybe they'll never find us._

_Maybe I don't care._

The biotic gritted her teeth, terrified of breaking this dream of a moment but unable to resist getting closer, as her heart hammered the inside of her ribs. Her hand traced up and over him, finally coming to rest behind his neck. Leaning into his chest, she felt her small breasts flatten against the unyielding wall of him.

His hand slipped down from her hip again, this time moving to the small of her back. Jack closed her eyes, gently touching her forehead to his.

"Mm." The sound escaped Shepard's throat on another soft exhale.

Jack flinched and froze in place, fighting the urge to pull away. She forced herself to match his deep, steady breathing, even as the lump in her throat grew and she squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to spill.

_He's huge and solid and warm and Jesus Christ I just want to be normal for him and make him happy and myself too and I can't and fuck I hate myself and he likes me and I don't know why and I'll fuck up and I'll ruin him I don't want this very second to ever end and I just want to hold him so tight that we both can't breathe and cry myself to death and..._

Her stomach growled. A comically loud, angry-bear-charging-at-a-hiker growl.

Glistening eyes snapped open, her lashes nearly brushing his, and she waited for him to wake up and ask _what the hell she was doing right now_.

He slept.

Jack was starting to think he was one of _those_ sleepers who snored through bombs exploding and the house burning down around him.

The biotic had a mad urge - tears, terror, and all - to burst into giggles at the absurdity of the moment. It hit her all at once.

She had come _thisclose_ to dying, three times. Once, by flaming omni-blade; then, by freezing to death; and finally, by crashing shuttle. Pretty exciting day, she had to admit.

She didn't have a clue where she was.

_Speaking of..._

Taking a second, she squinted up into the near-darkness. _Seats?_ Her eyebrows furrowed together.

_That's the floor above us. We're lying on the ceiling of the shuttle, it crashed upside-down. Okay._

She didn't have a clue _when_ it was.

She was buck-freaking-naked and pressed exceptionally tightly against the only man she'd ever, _ever_ envisioned enjoying being pressed against.

She was also _fucking starving_. Suddenly, it was the kind of hungry that made it entirely possible to imagine eating his face.

Baser instincts took some of the sharp edges away from her tension, and impulsively, she touched her lips to his forehead, and whispered against his skin.

"Don't go anywhere, dumbass."

Slipping away from him again, she slowly - though not as slowly as before - rolled away until she was on her back again. His arm that had been folded over her dragged across her body, his hand slipping over her lower abdomen until she grasped it and moved it down between their bodies.

"Not so fast, Shepard. Buy a girl dinner, first," she muttered quietly. She was in a good mood, suddenly.

_I really am fucked up. Maybe I'll be crying in five minutes, again. Or I'll kill him in his sleep in a murderous rage. Yeah, it's fun to be me._

Puffing out her breath, she watched it steam up into the cold air, the fog red-orange from the blessed little heater.

_Alright, manic-depressive bitch, this is going to suck. Time to put on your big-girl pants and...actually I'm not wearing pants._

Biting her lip to stop herself from bursting out laughing, she turned her head and looked at the heater. Next to it, propped up on tools and a box, she saw her tiny black underwear, socks, pants, and the undershirt she'd worn under the parka.

_Nice. _She glanced back at Shepard again, for a moment. _Fuck, you're sweet. Really. I'm going to think that very clearly while I'm riding this little good mood, here._

Stretching out, she managed to hook her panties with a forefinger. Warm and dry.

_Fuck yeah._

Reaching under the silver emergency blanket, Jack pulled her knees to her chin and slipped them on.

_Underwear warmed up with a little toaster, oh Jesus yes. This is my new favorite thing. Who will I tell? Zaeed? Oh, Christ, no. Ok, don't laugh. Shut up. Maybe if I get drunk with Kelly again I can talk about this._

Reaching out again, she touched one of her socks.

Damp.

_Fffffuck._

Her boots were sitting just past the heater, neatly unlaced, placed together properly.

_Fucking guy. No way in hell those are wearable._

Stretching just a little farther, she touched her shirt.

It was ripped pretty badly. And damp.

_Argh, seriously?_

She touched her pants.

Dry.

_You rule, magic military-pants fabric. Now I can have pants on, nice. And nothing else. In the freezing cold._

_Shit._

* * *

_[Four hours earlier]_

"_Ground team, Normandy." _An accented woman's voice. Very precise in speech.

"_Normandy_, ground team. Read you five."

"...who is this?"

"Lt. Ashley Williams, Systems Alliance Marine. Is this some sort of Cerberus cockbag? How's terrorist business? Blow up any turian orphanages today?"

There was a long pause, broken only by the occasional crackle on the channel.

"_Would Jacob, Garrus, or...__**anyone **__else be available?"_

"Nope. They stuck me with a relay to the main comm, here in medbay. I'm fine, thanks. Everyone else is scrounging up equipment and basically dicking around until the storm settles, then we're going to go out there in the last shuttle - _ours, and you're welcome_ - and find Shepard and whatshername."

"_You're __**not**__ a member of our ground crew. Find me..."_

"You _really_ want to bitch it up right now? We were all just shooting the same bad guys together. If you got something important, spit it out before I hang up."

"_Fine. You have two inbound shuttles, no police chatter. Likely batarian sec-forces or Eclipse, and hostile. ETA twelve minutes. __**You're welcome**__."_

"Cute. You're breaking up, _Normandy_."

"_What? I don't..."_

Ashley severed the connection with a smirk. Sliding off the medical bed she'd been resting on, she landed awkwardly and hissed in pain, clutching her side and feeling the broken shards of her own armor moving inside of her flesh.

At her feet was her bloodstained breastplate and the rest of the upper half of her cobalt-colored hardshell suit, piled next to her Avenger rifle. She half-bent to reach for the chestpiece, and the pain stood her up again.

"Fucking _dammit_," she hissed. Drawing in a deep breath, she leaned around the medbay door to shout down the hall.

"Hey! GET HOT, WE HAVE INCOMING! And...um, could somebody c'mere and help me get my armor back on?"

*_Infantry Fighting Vehicle_


	39. Trapped Under Ice

"Lt. Morea..."

"I see it, EDI!" Joker jammed his finger into the comm transmit. "Miranda, this could be it. An area of the storm is dissipating close to the facility region, and it's drifting in the right direction. We can do this, if I hit it right."

"_Then hit it right. I'll assemble a landing team."_

* * *

Kirrahe skipped sideways into the cover provided by a corner of a wall, even as a missile exploded into the table full of medical-looking equipment he'd just leapt away from. The resulting explosion lifted him from his feet and hurled him down the hallway, to bounce and skid for several meters before he slid to a halt - his M-4 Shuriken spinning away out of reach.

The _Normandy_ had warned them of reinforcements, but _this_ was more than they had bargained for. The first of the two Eclipse shuttles that landed had dismounted six troops, followed by a YMIR mech unfolding itself and stomping out to attack. Shepard's human mercenary - the old one with scars - had ducked back inside the facility and yelled a warning. Something about - his translator had paused a moment here - excrement impacting a rotational breeze-generating device? _Confusing._

The salarian officer deduced that this must be one of those baffling human idioms that his species had no general equivalent for, because that _really made no sense at all_.

"_Captain!" _Jeban's voice cut through the buzzing of his damaged hearing.

The veteran STG soldier shook his head to clear it. "I'm ok! Tech attacks on the mech!" He'd have to trust Shepard's crew to take their cues and adjust to assist properly. Based on his Virmire experience, he was confident that they would. Thus far, any being that Shepard allowed on his crew had proven to be exceptional soldiers in some capacity or another - and his own command of Lt. Williams had only reinforced his opinion.

Kirrahe's mouth twisted up in distaste even has he rose to his feet and quickly retrieved his gun. _Those same exceptional individuals are the very same we'd have to get through to get Shepard - if the Council so orders._

_Madness. Possibly suicidal and pointless. And wrong._

* * *

Her stomach snarled at her again, reminding her of priorities.

_Here goes._

Jack lifted the corner of the metallic blanket and quietly rolled out of it, swiftly rising to her feet to avoid full-body contact with the frigid floor. Taking just a second to tuck the material around Shepard again, she wrapped her arms tightly around her naked torso and hopped, barefoot, over the metal floor - no, _ceiling_ - of the upside-down shuttle. It was like walking on ice.

Almost as bad was leaving the tiny cone of warmth projected by the directional heater, and she shivered violently. She was sore all over, and her feet already ached, feeling bruised and tingly from her previous near-freezing.

Still, she was unable to resist her curiosity. She stopped at the open shuttle door - it was no colder there, since the air was motionless - and peered outside. In front, and to the left, there was nothing - a wall and corridor made of ice, barely visible in the dim light. Looking up, far above her in the darkness, there was a tiny patch that appeared brighter than the rest of her surroundings. Jack could hear the faint howling of the wind, and the occasional particle of snow drifted down past her nose.

_Ok, sooo...the shuttle hit the ground and crashed into some sort of crevasse, likely bouncing and smashing into the ice walls as it went. That would have looked pretty cool...too bad I missed it. Yeah, ok, so that's the __**where**__ we are, I guess. Yay, an icy tomb, what I've always wanted. It's my birthday._

_What the fuck? Shut up. Stop being weird._

To the right, _ah-hah_, the other shuttle lay perhaps twenty meters away. Bent, twisted, and partially blackened with fire damage. Judging by how most of the cockpit had been ripped open like an old juice can, it was clearly the one she'd _Shockwaved_ from the inside.

_Ok, so..._

_Shepard dragged me out of that one...over to this one. Nah, not dragged. Carried. It would look more heroic and he's kind of a douche about that. I was half-dead from the cold, my clothes soaked in ice water and blood. Undressed me, heh. Likely with his eyes closed because he's an idiot. Patched me up. Took off his armor and clothes and wrapped us up together. He..._

_He put his arms around me..._

Jack could not process this any further.

The cold, and the hunger that gnawed mercilessly at her stomach, made her turn back. Exhausted and with heavy limbs, she hurried as she was best able to the rear corner of the shuttle where the ration supplies were under the-

_No, we're upside down. The __**other**__ corner, you fucking moron._

With a curse, she moved slowly to the spot she remembered the supplies being kept.

Suddenly, it seemed far away, and her head lolled on her shoulders.

_I can't..._

"Fu...oh...oh shit..." The room blurred and swam around her, and her knees threatened to buckle. The biotic felt starved, empty, dehydrated, and lifeless, all at the same time. She leaned weakly against the wall, then bent forward with her hands resting on her knees, fighting the urge to dry-heave.

A wave of black depression washed over her. _I just want to feel ok for more than ten minutes at a time, is that too much to fucking ask? Just give me a day, universe. A day would be fucking great._

Grinding her palms into her eyes, she sucked in three slow, deep, and very cold breaths. Straightening up again slowly, the corners of her vision went purple as she put her bare back to the frozen shuttle.

_Get food. Crawl right inside of Shepard if you gotta. Warm._

_The next base we fuck up, I don't give a shit if it's Eclipse, Blue Suns, Cerberus, Alliance, a fucking charity HQ for three-legged puppies - so long as it's on a tropical goddamned beach and there's a guy selling hot-dogs from a cart. Those really big ones that are so good you just need a little mustard and not a ton of other shit on..._

_Oh, shut up. I've never even had one of those. That's from vids I've seen. I'm so fucking pathetic. _

Standing on bare tip-toes unsteadily, she reached up and awkwardly fumbled with the upside-down storage door under one of the crew benches, which tipped downward with a dull _clunk_...blocking her from seeing inside. She was just barely too short to reach up and around the edge to feel the contents of the storage bin.

"Oh _fucking fuck_," she hissed. Her hand still above her, clasping the cold metal door, Jack bit back the urge to scream in frustration. The only thing she could see that was suitable to use as a step was the metal box holding up her damn shirt.

Again wrapping her arms around herself tightly, she limped - the energy to hurry or hop had long fled her - over to the box, clothes, and heater. Jack stiffly fell to her knees before the small heater with a stifled groan of effort. Leaning towards it, she held her hands out and absorbed some precious warmth radiating from the red elements, before flicking her damp shirt off of the metal storage box, revealing bold yellow letters on olive green-painted metal.

Jack blinked and read the letters a second time, her teeth chattering.

She looked back at Shepard - still wrapped in the mylar blanket - then back to the box again. She would have been able to reach it easily from her original spot where she'd been pressed against him, warm and comfortable.

Jack wanted to blow her brains out.

The box read: EMERGENCY RATIONS

* * *

In the middle of _Pulling_ an Eclipse Trooper from his cover, Jacob had to abandon the maneuver and duck away from the line of fire, as the same YMIR mech searched the room for targets and focused on the Cerberus biotic. A moment later, cannon fire ripped apart the bank of computers he'd been using as cover. Ducking and cursing, Jacob rolled to the next rack of computers, and put his back to them.

_Didn't have my full Barrier up. Damn thing almost cut me in half._

Jacob tapped his comm. "If we could get some fire on that mech, that would be swell!"

A static-sounding, electrical discharge noise happened behind him, followed by machine-language in protest or error. Risking a peek over his cover, the YMIR's shields shimmered and flickered, dropping for a moment. An instant later, there was a _thunk_ as a grenade - he didn't see what direction it came from - hit it squarely in the chest as it rotated in the search for new targets.

With a _whoomph_ the entire machine burst into oily flames that billowed black smoke. Sensors overloaded, it again made a digital shriek and stumbled.

_Huh, guess they took me literally. Incendiary grenade. That must be Zaeed, or..._

Seizing the moment, Jacob popped back up from cover, rifle at the ready...

And took a close-range shotgun blast to the chest from the trooper he had dropped from his Pull.

Thrown backwards off of his feet as his shields died, Jacob landed flat on his back and skidded headfirst into a crate even as the trooper jumped over the low computer bank and advanced on him. The Cerberus operative, dazed, raised his rifle...

Through his blurred vision, he discovered he was pointing empty hands at the Eclipse trooper. He'd lost his gun while falling.

_Aw crap. Barrier now!_

Clumsily, he slapped at his omni-tool, and it _blooped_ in reply. _Incorrect command._

_Aw f..._

The trooper was two steps away, shotgun raised, the barrel looking as large as the business end of a fat pint of beer. He'd not be having one of _those_ agai...

The yellow-armored trooper abruptly arched backwards, both hands high and out to the sides, the shotgun momentarily dangling from his index finger caught in the trigger-guard, before clattering to the floor.

Jacob blinked, unsure of what he was seeing. A glowing orange blade protruded from the center of the trooper's breastplate, and for a long second everything was still.

Then, a short burst of gunfire, and the trooper's chest exploded outwards, showering him with bits of ceramic plate and blood splatter. The center of the merc's chest was a black and red crater, and he fell to his knees before flopping sideways lifelessly.

Ashley Williams, Avenger rifle in her right hand, looked down at him without expression. "Up and at 'em, Cerberus." Her cobalt armor was stained dark brown with her own dried blood, and her face had gone pale again and glistened with sweat.

Jacob's eyes flicked to her rifle, specifically the glowing blade at the front even as she thumbed the activator and it dissipated. "Is that...an omni-_bayonet_?"

The Alliance marine shrugged using only her right shoulder, while scanning the area around them for new threats. She spared a glance at the YMIR - being taken down by at least three combatants - before looking to him again.

"You think I'm here to fuck around? I fight close and dirty, and make a smartass comment about _that, _Cerberus, and I will ice you right here. I have no problem pretending it was enemy fire." She nodded at the dead, leaking trooper at her feet. "If you weren't Shepard's crew, I'd have let _this_ guy kill you before wasting him when he was done, and this conversation would not be happening."

For a moment, she stared down at him with narrowed eyes, as if deciding his immediate fate. With a resigned sigh, she kicked his own shotgun closer to him before limping away.

Jacob sat up - wiping blood from his face with distaste - and retrieved his weapon while cautiously watching the marine retreat down the hallway, following the sound of combat.

"Yeah, thanks a bunch."

* * *

Joker's hands played furiously over the controls as the _Normandy_ rocked and jolted around him. "Miranda! The second shuttle is only arriving now. They got separated, for some reason. We should be catching it just as they deploy, or shortly after."

"Good. Green-light us for a hot-drop on the cables when we're 20 meters or less."

"Yes, ma'am!" _Damn, I don't like Miranda much, but I have to admit she's got an exciting kind of bossy going on when shit gets real._

* * *

Steadying herself in the rolling, shifting cargo bay by placing one hand on the wall beside her, Miranda reached up and gripped the handle of the mechanically-dampened rappelling mechanism as it swung and twisted just above her. Relatively primitive, but effective for combat drops to reduce the time-on-target of the delivery vehicle - in this case, the irreplaceable _Normandy_.

For the first time on this mission, Miranda was clad in the full Cerberus-issue hardsuit - white and black, trimmed in gold. With the _Normandy_ breaking stealth to enter atmosphere in order to drop the Hammerhead, as well as foot soldiers, they had perhaps twenty-five minutes before an armed response could be expected. There was no time for subtlety, evasion, or clever tactics.

Miranda glanced over her shoulder at the two security crewmen - also in hardsuits - that she'd selected to accompany them. They exchanged nods with her, faces concealed behind mirrored visors. Solid soldiers, if not exceptional to the best of her knowledge. If they accorded themselves well - and survived - she might even learn their full names.

Miranda looked beside her, to Mordin. From inside his own helmet, the salarian's eyes crinkled as he grinned at her.

_He's getting old._

The thought came all at once, and not happily. He was nearing the end of his years. Exceptional, brilliant years. He was the most intelligent organic she'd ever conversed with and, even as it humbled her, she felt honored to have had the opportunity to have known him. The ex-STG multi-disciplined scientist could have been a good friend and mentor, if they'd met long ago and under different conditions.

Miranda pulled the corner of her mouth into a half-smile, and nodded once in reply.

_If wishes were horses..._

Joker's voice crackled in Miranda's helmet. _"Get hot. Sixty seconds. Second Eclipse shuttle just dumped a YMIR and five troops."_

She shook her head. _Sentimentality is for the stupid. Do your job._

"Let's do this right. I want the Normandy dusting off within five seconds of us touching ground. We're hitting that mech hard and fast. I'll get the shields, Mordin will light up the armor, then you," Miranda gave a pointed look to one of the two Cerberus troops behind her, who wore a large disposable rocket-launcher on his back, "hit it with the Cobra. Only you," she added, looking at the other, "will be engaging any foot soldiers. Just suppress them if you can while we do our work on the mech."

"Yes ma'am," both soldiers replied in near-unison.

The elderly salarian scientist nodded, also in his hardsuit - an older STG model he'd evidently kept for nostalgia or emergencies. "Understood. Shock trooper tactics. Overwhelming fire. Vigorous shouting. Battle cries, perhaps." He sniffed deeply. "May let loose. Partake."

Looking up at the Hammerhead nestled in the overhead lift beside and above them, she pointedly exchanged a look with Tali, who was checking controls in the pilot's seat. The quarian engineer nodded coolly in return. Beside her, Samara - barely visible - was donning a headset while looking the very picture of serenity.

Swaying back and forth while holding the rappel grip overhead, Miranda tapped her helmet comm. "Tali, I'm giving you fifteen minutes to find Shepard, then five minutes for retrieval. If it doesn't work out, we're off-planet and resetting for another plan."

The Cerberus officer could see the top of the quarian's head nod again. "I'll find him. I'll be active-pinging for those shuttles so hard most of the _n'pok_ planet will hear me."

Miranda, Mordin, and the two security men gripped the rappelling handles with both hands. "Ready. Joker, once we're out, put a shot into each of the Eclipse shuttles, if you can confirm them. We'll secure the salarian one. _This_ time, nobody from Eclipse gets away."

"_Roger that. Weapons free on confirmed Eclipse shuttles."_

"Ground team, Normandy. We're onsite and coming in." There was a crackle, and the sound of gunfire overriding a voice shouting in reply. Miranda's lips set in a firm line as fresh adrenaline hit her bloodstream and energized her limbs. They were jumping into a live firefight.

"_Ten seconds."_

_That suits me just fine. Everyone on the damned Normandy is taking on Shepard's persona. Sloppy with the regulations. Half-complete paperwork. Incomplete forms. Missing expenses. Shooting something will make me feel better._

Plus that angry feeling she had, when she thought of their crew just below them being shot at right at this instant.

_Our crew?_

_Dammit, Shepard. You're getting me, too._

"Ground team, Normandy..."

"_Five seconds."_

_Yes._

Her crew.

"Sound the trumpets."

The hatch beneath their feet snapped open, and with the whirring of cables the four of them fell out the bottom of the ship, into the darkness of winter nightfall below.

* * *

Out of the near-total darkness, and the eerie silence of an isolated icy cave, a man's voice suddenly burst out, followed quickly by a woman's.

"Muaahh!"

"Shutupit'sjustme!"

Shepard shivered violently, his whole body stiffening in shock as he was thrown wildly out of the darkness of sleep, feeling like a bucket of ice water had just been thrown over him.

Rather than ice water, it was a shivering, teeth-chattering, half-naked biotic woman that was all over him. Jack's face was pressed against his, her cold nose touching his ear, and both arms wrapped around the back of his neck, like a small child clinging to the safety of a trusted adult. With a furious tug, she yanked the thin - but miraculously warm - emergency blanket higher to snug tightly around both their necks. Instinctively, his arms went around her, as well - his wrists crossing on her bare back, between her shoulder blades, and pressing her against him.

"You're still freezing..."

"No! Was warm...before. I...got up...hungry...looked for food. Some..._fuckhead_...moved the ration pack...right next to us! I was...digging around freezing my...ass off!" She could barely get the words out - shivering so hard that her breaths were convulsing in gasps.

Shepard sucked in air through his teeth as she shifted and her icy, bare feet rubbed against his naked legs. "Jesus! Jack..."

"Just...give me...a minute."

"Ok..."

"I..."

"Don't worry about it."

_She's thin. Well, thin-__**er**__. Even more than before._

It had been...two weeks ago? Three? She'd physically jumped him, pawing at him, tugging at his clothing. With warning alarms screaming in his brain, he'd wrestled her away and left. He'd been suspicious that she was trying to define his attempts to know her as something she clearly understood, something that fit neartly in the box of her thinking.

He'd not physically touched her since, and even in that short time, she felt diminished. The ragged scar that ran up her spine didn't conceal the indentations between her vertebrae. His forearms were pressed into the back of her ribs, which he could clearly feel through her seemingly paper-thin skin.

_Going to get Dr. Chakwas and Rupert together, work on a biotic meal-plan for her. She still avoids people in the mess, and now she's working with Samara all the time. She's devouring her own body by avoiding interaction with the rest of the crew._

It was something to occupy his thoughts. Something constructive. A distraction from the fact that - in areas between the lines of scars - the goosebumps of her young, smooth skin felt endlessly fascinating under his hands; that her breath was warm in his ear; and especially, that her cool, bare breasts - and rock-hard nipples - were pressed into his warm chest.

"Jack..." He found himself whispering, as it was deathly quiet other than the sound of her breathing, and anything more would have seemed excessive.

"Mm."

"Roll over. Get some protein bars from the kit. Eat something."

"Did. Dropped them...under me somewhere when I jumped back in here."

"And drink as much as you can."

"Yes, _Dad_."

With a quiet groan, she rolled over to face away from him, putting some space between them but still carefully remaining under the blanket. She groped around blindly, making the blanket rustle around them both.

"'Kay, got three here."

Reaching forward, he hooked one arm around her tummy and pulled her closer, snugging her butt into his groin, again pushing one leg between hers, and pressing her cold back against him. The protest on Jack's lips died, as she instead hissed in pleasure at the sensation of his body heat.

Shepard's lips were now close to her ear. "Eat all three, right now. You've lost weight, you know. And you're not a person who had any weight to lose. We're going to work on proper nutrition, soldier - you're going to start eating like a pro athlete in training before you fall over and die."

Turning her head just far enough to regard him from the corner of one eye, she snorted quietly.

"Yes, _sir_, Commander, _sir_. You're buying me a pizza, by the way."

There was the tearing of foil and then she was eating hungrily, making muffled sounds of pleasure as some of the tension drained out of her shoulders.

"I am, huh?" The back of her neck was almost touching his nose, and the dim glow of the heater played through the edges of her hair. It had grown out enough that it looked soft and...

"Mmph...yeah. My brain made me a crazy promise while I was hanging out of the fucking shuttle by one hand. Said to myself, 'hey, if I live through this, Shepard will buy me a pizza.' Extra cheese and whatever I want. So, yeah, you're stuck with that now. I'm cashin' it in 'cause I'm sick of your shitty army food."

Abruptly, her head jerked up and the chewing stopped.

"Hey! Did we get the data thing?"

Unseen behind her, he grinned. "Heh, yeah, it's right here. I've been using the carrying case as a pillow."

"Thought I smelled something burnt. Asshole salarian set off some sort of fire-ammo right in the fuckin' cockpit with both of us. He's dead, right?"

The N7 commando snorted. "I only found half of his body."

Jack snorted, put her head down, and kept eating. "That's dead enough, I guess. Ok, good. That data shit better be fucking important. _Any_way. You, credits. Me, pizza. This is a thing. _This is happening_."

"Deal. You were the big hero today, Jack. Buying you a pizza seems entirely reasonable."

"Might be a real fuckin' _big_ pizza."

"I'll steal from the engineering budget if I have to."

"Do what you gotta do. 'Least you can do for a girl after taking her clothes off while she's knocked out."

There was a long, empty space of silence. Jack had even stopped chewing, either regretting what she'd said, or waiting for the response intently.

Shepard cleared his throat. "Uh. Well. You were half-frozen and wet, and I was worried you were going to _die_, Jack. Also, it would be _really_ nice if you didn't describe it in exactly _those _words if somebody asks."

"You still don't know when you're being fucked with, Boy Scout. You saved my ass. Seriously thought it was all over this time. Still, if things were the other way around, I'd...y'know...take my time a little. Take a look around." He could practically hear the smirk on her face.

Shepard rolled his eyes. "Ok, listen. You were half-stiff, you were so cold; you were a bloody mess; you were barely breathing. I didn't even have the heater on yet, so it was also _extremely_ dark. I think my hands were shaking. It was _not_ a sexy time."

"Look who has high standards, all of a sudden." There was a crinkle of foil as she tossed one wrapper, and opened another bar. "Your omni-tool has a flashlight, y'know," she added, almost thoughtfully, "and you did a really neat job with that cut on my _boob_," she added, drawling out the word comically.

A frustrated sigh. "I _know_. I was _trying_ to avoid describing how I was handling you like a piece of steak."

"Huh. How'd you make that sound so hot?"

There was the crunching of snow packing under a boot, and the black silhouette of a humanoid stood in the doorway. After a moment's hesitation, the form stepped forward, and Samara entered the meager orange light.

Silence.

Both Shepard and Jack stared back at her, mostly undressed, and Jack's cheeks stuffed with food. The Justicar looked from one to the other for a moment, her clear cyan eyes wide with unspoken questions.

"Well. I...see. That. You're both..._well_."

They'd never seen Samara at a loss for words.


	40. Welcome Home

Samara activated her omni-tool as her face, under her breathing mask, relaxed back into its more customary expression of impassive neutrality.

"Tali, I've located them both. They appear to be uninjured."

"_Keelah! Thank you! Hug Shepard for me."_

"Perhaps at a later time - the commander is occupied presently. I will set the charges you provided, and then I shall assist them to the surface. Lower the cable, please."

In the dim orange glow of a single battery-powered heating element, the eternity of six entire seconds passed in complete silence.

Jack broke first.

"I'm wearing pants," the convict blurted.

Shepard groaned and his head fell back to his makeshift pillow, even as Samara hooked a finger in her mask, pulling it down to rest at her neck. The slightest ghost of a smirk touched one corner of the Justicar's mouth.

"If so, child, you are doing it incorrectly."

* * *

Four minutes later, Samara gently rubbed her chilled hands together as she sat in the passenger bay of the M-44 Hammerhead. As the hoverjets whined to life, there was a distant rumble as the incendiary charges consumed the two downed shuttles, far below them in the icy crevasse.

"Happy to see the end of that fuckin' hole," Jack muttered beside her, huddled in Samara's scarlet-red parka - like Miranda, Samara was clearly fond of elegant colour-coordination and had programmed the ship's fabricator to make her winter clothing of a suitable appearance.

"I would imagine it to be so," the Justicar agreed, hugging herself to keep warm. "Although, judging by the praise Shepard put upon you as I brought him to the surface, he feels this has been your finest hour."

Jack's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "He _said_ that?"

Samara's head tilted slightly as she considered her words. "In a manner of speaking, yes. He was clearly proud of you. As am I."

"Huh." The biotic allowed herself a lopsided grin for a moment, then reached up with a red, raw hand to touch the wound on her forehead, covered in congealed medi-gel. "Guess it was worth taking a few lumps. Owe that to you, y'know. Getting the data, I mean. Pulled off two half-decent biotic jumps, like you taught me. Second one was pretty, uh, crazy. Or stupid. Damn near got myself killed. Up onto a moving shuttle in a blizzard, blind as fuck. I was all pumped up about this guy not gettin' away from me, though, no matter what."

The convict paused, and her grin widened. "He didn't either. Got Shepard his thing, and hell, even managed to live."

Samara's mouth twitched into a tiny smile. "You jest, but it warms you to know you've pleased him."

Jack's smile faded and tightness returned to her features. "That's no big deal. I live for myself, and it's one day at a time."

The Justicar's expression didn't waver. "I am sure that was true, once. Perhaps, to some degree, it still is. However, while I was a maiden a _very_ long time ago, those memories are intact - and I see the looks you have for each other."

Jack blew out a breath in exasperation, and sat back on the troop bench beside the asari, their shoulders touching in the cramped bay. "I dunno what's going on there. No need to be talking about that, when I have no idea what _that _is. That thing he did...he'd have done that for anyone. Military survival training bullshit, and that kind of thing. I just happened to be there."

Samara inclined her head. "It is certainly true in that he would have saved anyone he could - that would appear to be his defining trait. The difference is, _neither of you minded_," she finished with a small smile, again. "But," she continued, seeing Jack about to protest, "I apologize for this. I will tease you no longer."

Samara reached over and fondly patted the human's knee. "You were admirable, child. Nearly the entire crew participated in this mission, and you were the one who ensured it ultimately succeeded. Perhaps the crew will celebrate, later."

Jack rolled her eyes and scoffed. "They can be my fucking guest."

"They all have reason to be positive towards you, today. This is your chance to interact with them"-at Jack's eye-roll, the elder Justicar held up one hand to request patience-"and build basic relationships. I believe the time will come when we all will need to depend on each other - it may be prudent to build connections with them when possible."

"I remember such things well, and fondly. I was a mercenary for a time, very long ago." The asari's expression grew distant for a moment. "There were fine vessels, and crews, and friendships."

Jack snorted dismissively. "No interest in building _connections_ with these Cerb dipshits. And _you_ don't spend time with anyone."

Samara's eyes widened slightly. "Ah, but I do. Shepard visits often, and we speak of many things. Perhaps because of my years, or the solitary path I have chosen, he seems to have chosen me as a confidant. I am pleased that he values my council," she added with a small smile.

"Also, I have meditated with Thane. We have shared memories of...relatable experiences," she admitted, hesitating in her choice of words. "And, I have formed a friendship with _you_, child, have I not? Are we merely teacher-student and nothing more?"

The asari's lips again turned up very slightly as she awaited a response.

None was forthcoming.

The Justicar drew in a long, deep breath, then exhaled very slowly, as if gathering herself. She continued, more quietly. "I have not spoken so much in many years. Perhaps I am being presumptuous."

Jack closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the hull of the Hammerhead, and crossed her arms over herself. "Nah, s'ok. I'm tired of talkin' though, grandma."

The Justicar inclined her head in surrender. "As you wish."

"Mm."

* * *

Jumping over and through the burning remains of the YMIR mech they'd counted on for fire-cover and support, the last Eclipse trooper huffed harsh, panicked breaths as he ran as fast as his full armor would allow.

He'd never been stationed here before.

He had no idea where to go.

The hammering of his heart pounding in his ears, the human male ran down one hallway, then the next. Left, right, left again - he didn't know anymore the path he'd taken, but none of the doors were airlocked to protect against Lorek's differing atmosphere, so on he ran.

_I need to get the fuck out of here!_

There had been over twenty troops here. They'd been reduced to blood and lumps on the floor. His shuttle had reinforced with six more, and the mech. All gone, except for him.

The second shuttle, and damn it to fucking hell, had taken a lightning strike and was delayed while systems reset. _They_ had brought in five more troops, and _another_ mech. From the yelling over the comm that rang in his ears, they were being cut to ribbons.

All three groups had been chewed up by whoever had invaded this place.

Eclipse were lambs to slaughter.

_Need to get out, hide outside until they leave. Send a message to stop sending more guys..._

At the far end of the hallway he had just entered, there was a glowing red screen indicating _External Access_ and a warning about _Pressurized Access_. Flooded with relief, he ran...

The air in front of the door shimmered, and a green-armored salarian appeared, wielding a submachine gun which was being raised in his direction.

_Cloaked!_

Skidding to a halt, the trooper sprayed the end of the hall with his battered Avenger assault rifle, peppering the salarian with...

The rounds were passing through him and impacting the door.

_What..._

The thought was never completed. From a side access hall, an armored hand in identical green extended and sprayed the trooper with a short burst of fire. Shields dropped, and the rifle fell from his numbed hand as his arm was punctured by two rounds. Backpedaling away, he never saw the other salarian in black armor raise his identical Shuriken and fire it directly into the back of his neck.

Stepping forward, both Kirrahe and Jeban silently looked down at their target as he bled out on the floor, unmoving. Beyond, Jeban's doppelganger hologram faded from sight. They looked up - in unison - as Kasumi appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, clapping slowly in appreciation.

"Nicely done! Do you guys fist-bump now and go '_STG, bitches!_' or something like that?" Her smile was wide and full of mirth.

They stared back at her with open confusion.

Her smile dropped, and the thief sighed dramatically. "You guys are no fun at all. Well, let's go. Shepard called in from the Hammerhead, and it's time to bounce this lemonade stand and _why did I even say that?_ That'll just overload your translators. _We need to leave, and right now._ Ashley will come with us for a bit of medical treatment, and we'll meet up with your ship in Kairavamori system to give her back, cool? Argh. I mean, _is that acceptable?_"

Kirrahe nodded slowly. "I see no harm in this. Are you well?"

Kasumi sighed. "Nothing a glass of wine won't fix. Let's go."

* * *

Miranda Lawson, in full and gleaming white and gold Cerberus armor, cast open the front door of the facility by slamming her fist into the sensor. Behind her, twin columns of black smoke rose from the burning Eclipse shuttles to vanish into the snow that was now gently falling from the night sky.

Orange, flickering light from the fires cast her dancing shadow into the doorway as she tapped her comm.

"Ground team, Miranda! We have batarian planetary ground forces ETA seven minutes. Shepard and Jack accounted for. Normandy touching down..."

Looking over her shoulder, she saw the landing lights of the famous frigate cutting through the snow-hazed darkness to illuminate the area where she stood, and even in her armor, her skin tingled from the mass effect fields surrounding the vessel as its landing gear settled softly into the snow.

"...now! Double-time, everyone!"

A chorus of _"Copy that," "Roger," a_nd_ "Understood," _greeted her. As well as a "_Yeah yeah,_ _keep yer swimsuit on,"_ from Massani.

Over the horizon, past the bulk of the Normandy, beams of light stabbed through the haze as the Hammerhead crested an enormous and distant drift.

Shepard's voice filled the _Normandy_ crew frequency for the first time in what seemed like days, and Miranda felt unexpected relief flood though her at his sudden words.

_"Ground team, Shepard. Let's get Kirrahe's people in the sky first. Their shuttle is less defensible if the incoming batarians have armed aircraft. How's Ash?"_

Garrus's voice responded. "Chief is with everyone's turian hero, Commander, I'm bringing her out. Taking her to the _Normandy_ temporarily for treatment. We'll meet up with the salarians outside of this system. You have the package?"

_"Affirm that. Good work, everyone. Let's hit the sky."_

* * *

_**Pabrl**_

_..._

The woman in blue armor cursed bitterly and rubbed her hands together, willing them to stop shaking. _Dammit, you get your shit together. You've been carrying a rifle and walking the walk for damn near fifteen years. Suck it up._

Blowing out a breath of frustration, she resumed typing, slowly and carefully. Her fingers pecking with deliberate movements on the holo-keyboard on her omni-tool.

_**Pavel,**_

_**Since I uploaded the data to you, you've not replied and I'm very worried for you. Scared. Please, just write back and say you're ok. You don't have to tell me where you are, or anything. I just...want to know that I didn't get you killed.**_

_**If you do get this, and you're in trouble, I'm sorry. I just couldn't...do nothing at all, not anymore. I've looked the other way far too many times before. I can't undo all of that, but I guess everyone has a limit, and I reached it here.**_

_**Please be ok, and respond as soon as you can.**_

_**Jentha**_

The mercenary encrypted the message to the best of her ability and sent it, then held her breath as someone passed by the door. She'd been inside of a utility room for over twenty minutes, surrounded by cables and communications equipment. The light streaming under the door darkened for an instant as the person passed by, and then carried on without slowing.

Heart pounding, Jentha resumed breathing. Disconnecting the small cable that led from her omni-tool to the trunk network, she cautiously slipped out the door and went about resuming her duties as invisibly as possible.

* * *

Seventy-three hours after leaving it, Liara slumped against the door to her luxury apartment. She'd allowed herself four hours of blessed, coma-like sleep while slumped in the driver's seat of a stolen vehicle, while the rain pounded down all around her.

Via an unsavory volus connection Liara had made long ago, that skycar was already being broken up for parts, and would essentially vanish. It had belonged to the now-dead Dehya, a local crime lord that had organized a bounty collection attack Shepard a week ago, on Illium - almost certainly with the intent of presenting him to the Shadow Broker.

Four hours. After fifty-seven hours of activity, then awake again for an additional seventeen while carefully covering her tracks.

The asari information broker felt she was no longer courting mere death by exhaustion, but complete madness. Every thought and action had to be pushed through a thick wall of confusion and resistance, like trying to swim in viscous, syrupy fluid.

It had taken an ultimate effort to appear somewhat normal to the main security guard of her exclusive building, a burly turian who was notable for his stoicism. Predictably, she had overcompensated and tried to act _too_ normal. The turian had peered at her oddly as she had passed by, as she offered a half-hearted wave and a faked smile.

He'd raised one taloned hand halfway, as if close to returning the gesture, before catching himself, and his mandibles had twitched as if in annoyance. So very odd.

_What...was I..._

Barely managing to catch herself before collapsing, she left a broad smear of mud on the cobalt-painted entrance. Resting her forehead against the cool metal, she considered the effort required to enter, and what would need to be done once she did.

Disabling security.

Re-setting it.

Dropping her weapons and other equipment carelessly upon the floor in a heap.

Undressing, leaving filthy armor and bits of wet clothing in a trail as she stumbled to her room.

Struggling to remain conscious while showering off the grime.

Drying herself.

Staggering the enormous distance to her bed.

Falling upon it and accepting the darkness for a very, very long time.

_You...can...do...this. Just. Ten more minutes._

Ripping one of her gloves off with her teeth, the asari - eyes closed, face pressed to the door - blindly slapped the door lock with her bare hand. Activated, she fumbled until her finger found the tiny scanner. It beeped, allowing for the next stage of authentication.

"Pass-phrase for voice authentication."

Speaking required tremendous effort. Her mind felt like it was a long distance away from her body, and her mouth was dry and metallic.

"Pass-phrase for voice auth..."

"Alchera," she gasped. The hated word. Every time she entered her home, a purposeful reminder of why she needed to feel the Shadow Broker's blood coating her hands. Watch the life leave his eyes. Hear his heartbeat slow, then stop.

He'd desecrated the body of her love for the purpose of handing him over to his killers. Even now - with the years that had passed and his return to life - the bile and furious rage welled up at the thought.

The Broker had forced her down a path that had led to her making a shameful, awful choice that she still questioned every single day. That she had still never fully explained to Shepard. What would he say? Her courage failed her at the mere thought of such a conversation.

_Do not touch him, inatosha n'di, you honorless filth. He is your better of a magnitude beyond your understand._

"Please repeat in normal speaking to..."

"Alchera, _damn you!_" she nearly shouted, her eyes squeezed tight.

The hum of the tiny electrical motors sunk deep in the reinforced walls hummed to life, and she forced herself to lean back from the door just as it slid open.

"Confirmed. Welcome ho..."

An impact struck her lower back, bending her painfully backwards as she was propelled into her own private shelter, hitting the floor and skidding across the expensive, smooth stonework nearly into her kitchen.

The haze vanished, and her thoughts raced.

_The turian. He was nervous. Because he accepted payment to allow someone to wait in the building. To follow me._

Propping herself up on one elbow, Liara gasped in pain as her shoulder reminded her of the injury inflicted by Dehya. She saw an asari form silhouetted in her doorway, striding in after her. Not dressed for combat as she might expect, but casually, in a business dress.

"Yes, welcome home, T'Soni. Nice that you could see it, one final time."


	41. Into the Cold Black Earth - pt 1

Liara simply didn't have the ability to defend herself. Her limbs were leaden, her mind fogged by fatigue, and her head pounded with the need for rest.

From one hand, Nyxeris dropped the shoes she carried, and a small cloth bag fell from the other. Padding forward on bare feet, she lashed out with a sudden side-kick directly into Liara's face. White light exploded in the young scientist's eyes as she heard, as much as felt, her nose crumple under the impact of the other asari's heel. Flopping awkwardly onto her back, Liara instinctively rolled away - clutching one hand to her face even as she tasted the sour blood running into the back of her throat.

Looking down at her foot and flexing it against the tastefully tiled floor, Nyxeris grimaced. "Oh, sweet Liara...so easily led. The Broker has kept you busy, sending small attacks after you; leaving his people open to retaliation rather than securing them. It seems you've finally proved yourself enough of a nuisance that he decided to take care of things. Did you even realize you were being strung along? And you look so _exhausted_, dear...I thought you were about to start crying at the front door."

Reaching down, Nyxeris took the hem of her knee-length dress in one hand and hitched it to mid-thigh. Taking a two-step start to build momentum, she viciously buried her foot into Liara's stomach, blasting the air from her lungs. The smaller asari curled up into a ball and wheezed for a breath that refused to come - hot, purple blood streamed from where the skin had split on the bridge of her nose and dripped from one nostril.

"That was a _good_ one. Without that light armor, I might have broken a few ribs," she mused, thoughtfully, as she looked down at the former scholar with open disdain. "You look _awful_, T'Soni. In fact, I think I'm dirtying my feet by kicking you. Did you play in the mud for the last few days, child? This is no way to welcome a guest into your home. Your traitorous, pureblood-breeding mother, Benezia, would be ashamed if she could see you now."

With a defiant snarl through her gritted teeth, fueling a surge of effort, Liara pulled herself to her knees. With one hand on the floor for support, her biotics flashed and she raised a fist. Nyxeris, prepared for this, held forward a small device and activated it, making a face of distaste as she did so.

A keening, piercing noise at the edge of perceptible sound washed over Liara, as two glasses on her counter shattered. With an open-mouthed expression of agony, she fell back to the floor, her hands uselessly clasped to the sides of her head.

Shivering with disgust, Nyxeris turned the device off and set it on the counter. Still curled up in a ball on the floor, the excruciating pain backed away just enough to allow Liara to scream, high and breathlessly.

The taller asari rolled her eyes. "Oh, _do_ shut up. That thing is directional, but still...that was painful for _me_, as well. Have a little sympathy. It's a shame this device doesn't work nearly as well on humans - I'd love to see your pet Spectre writhing on the floor like this. Only...I don't think he's your pet anymore, is he? He's only come by once, and he certainly didn't stay long. Did he let you know he'd found better options?"

"_Ka...'saiba...hinwa..._" Liara gasped out, as tears of pain and hatred mixed with the blood from her nose to drip on her floor.

Nyxeris made a _tsk_ sound. "Such lowborn language. Perhaps he left you for a higher form of life then a T'Soni pureblood. _Oh_. While I think of it, this..."

Nyxeris dropped to her knees abruptly, driving her fist so hard into Liara's jaw that her head bounced off the floor.

"...is for your _mother!_ My family lost a _fortune_ invested in Binary Helix!" Grabbing the half-limp scientist by the collar of her light armor, she brushed aside her weak attempts to shield her face, and punched her solidly again.

And again.

And a fourth time.

Nyxeris stood and flexed her right hand a few times, then shook it as if pained. Liara, only semi-conscious, rolled slightly back and forth and moaned as Nyxeris stepped over her and rinsed her hands in the sink, talking over her shoulder as she did.

"I ended up with debts because of your damned family. That's how I ended up in the service of the Broker. I lost my career and savings, you little _bitch_. Seventy years in the military. Two hundred and sixty years managing financial assets. _Guess_ who I had the majority of my funds buried in? Almost four hundred years of work, destroyed! You, Shepard, Saren, Benezia...wasted half my _life_. Then, my work for the Broker...required me to be nice to you for over a year. That, you know, was the hardest part; acting like I didn't want to cave in your skull every single day. Evidently the Broker wanted you _watched_, rather than killed. You were his lure to get Shepard back, don't you know. Then you went and made a nuisance of yourself by actually being _competent_ at your pathetic little grudge."

Putting her hands in the high-speed air-dryer for a moment, she scowled as she looked around the vast, open apartment. "Just _look_ at this place. Such wealth you command, while I now have so little. This is only your second-nicest apartment, I think. You have more money invested in the art on your walls than my entire family has remaining. You acted so torn when Benezia's liquid assets were handed to you from her estate, how _precious_. Like you were _too good_ for it. Her own killer, paid in full by her own funds."

Striding past Liara to the front door again - pausing to look at her, making sure she wasn't getting up to put up any resistance as of yet - Nyxeris stepped over her discarded dress shoes and picked up the small case. Opening it as she returned, she pulled forth a syringe.

"N...no..." Liara muttered through a split lip, her teeth purpled by blood; peering up from the floor through the one eye that had not swollen shut.

"Don't struggle, dear, or I'll stick this in your good eye. Don't worry, it's not lethal. I'd never make it _that_ quick." Grabbing the former archaeologist by the upper arm, she wrenched her over to her side - making Liara squeal as her injured shoulder flared with a fresh spike of pain - and jabbed the needle into a gap in her armor; the seam at her waist where a thin line of her slender midriff could be seen.

"A mild synaptic neurotoxin. If you ever wondered what it's like to be a non-biotic, the next twelve hours or so will be enlightening. But I want you awake, T'Soni, I'd hate to give you a peaceful death."

Nyxeris activated her omni-tool and spoke into it. "Put all the the lifts except number three out of order for the next ten minutes. Three goes into maintenance mode. Bring the car to service lift three and leave it there, then go back to your desk."

Closing the channel, Liara's would-be assistant rose to her feet and placed her hands on her hips, looking around with a critical eye. "Some of these things will fetch a nice price. I see a piece of Shepard's burned-up armor over there. Recovered that from his body, huh? That must have really special sentimental value; in fact, I bet you cried yourself _sick_ when you first got your hands on that. I know a fence that can appraise just about anything, though...a rich batarian would _love_ that for a trophy."

At her feet, the virtual teenager (by asari standards) growled from the back of her throat and fought her way to one elbow, gasping at the effort. Her blue eyes glowed brightly with fresh hatred.

Nyxeris laughed derisively and simply placed her bare foot on Liara's neck and pushed her over, then knelt with one knee in the small of her back to pin her to the floor.

"Do you even know why I'm here? I was just supposed to confirm when you came back to your place. But this should earn a nice payoff, and move me up in the organization. The Broker will be pleased. I _would_ say it was just business - but the truth is, I'd have done it for free."

She wrenched both of Liara's arms around to her back - causing another muffled scream of pain - and secured her wrists with a locking plastic strap.

"Stand up, T'Soni, it's time to go for a little drive."

* * *

Liara came out of the blackness when her head bounced off of the floor of the skycar. The sound of the door closing, and then the small movement of Nyxeris' weight entering the front, let her know they were about to depart. The edges of her vision went gray as she nearly passed out again, but she shook her head to try to clear it, and sucked in air to try to oxygenate herself into alertness - which merely served to set off a coughing fit from the blood still trickling down her throat from her throbbing nose.

With a groan of effort, she rotated herself - shoulder and ribs screaming in protest - to place herself face-down. At least, now, if she passed out again, she'd not choke and suffocate on her own blood. The skycar vibrated and hummed as lights played over it, followed by darkness - they had left the parking area under her building, and were now outside.

Liara coughed again. "Where...?"

Nyxeris snickered. "It matters little to you, trust me. No, _wait_. Actually, you will enjoy this. Do you remember when you engineered the takeover of Thoughtpulse, after discovering they were a Broker-owned company, and took actions to crush the stock price?"

Eyes closed, Liara grated out the words, distorted by the swelling of her mouth and from having her cheek pressed into the floor. "Simply...revealed financial...irregularities. Gave...you...a huge bonus. We...celebrated...in my office...with wine."

"That's right. I remember being worried that you'd be able to sense my revulsion for you, being so damned pleased with yourself. I wanted to vomit. Regardless, thank you for the credits. I bought myself a little cottage far away from Nos Astra, _with your money_, which is all the better. We're going there now; I've been dying to show it to you. In fact, I added a feature just for you."

Lying on her stomach, Liara shivered. Nyxeris' voice vacillated between detached, amused, and hateful - she sounded as if she was walking the very edge of sanity.

"You see, I dug a hole..."

* * *

"Light off."

Wearing only a towel, Shepard padded from the shower to his bed, his steps slow and heavy. What was supposed to have been a hit-and-run mission turned into one that had stretched over the better half of two days. He didn't need quite as much sleep as his..._old_ self, but still, his eyes were heavy and the oversized bed looked extremely inviting in the cyan glow of the empty fish tank.

With a groan, he sat down upon it, then swiveled over and lay down. The pillow was cool and fresh-feeling, and he closed his eyes and heaved a great, slow sigh.

_Wearing towel. Need to get up. Put on underwear or something. Come back..._

His eyes cracked open, with a quiet intake of startled breath. Instinctively, his eyes sought out the chronometer on the small table next to the bed.

_02:17_

_Fell asleep. Almost two hours. Could have slept all night like t..._

There was the sound of boots being quietly removed and set on the floor, then a quiet rustle of cloth from the foot of his bed, before a weight caused the mattress to dip, slightly.

A small form slid up beside him, slowly and carefully.

Shepard felt a smile tug the corner of his mouth, as he detected the faint scent of coconut on warm skin.

"Hey," he whispered.

Beside him, the other person froze, and there was a moment of hesitation.

"Hey," Jack's rough, low voice replied, barely audible. "Didn't think you'd be awake."

"Wasn't."

"Oh. Uh. Can...is this ok? I just..."

"Yeah. Lie down. Not sleeping?"

He felt her slender form cautiously settle behind him. After a moment, she exhaled a deep breath and relaxed slightly, the movement of warm air touching the back of his neck.

"Slept some. Didn't go well."

"Nightmare?"

"Yeah." Several seconds passed. "One of the...worse ones."

He rolled over, so he was on his back and looking at her. Nearly silhouetted by the light from the fish tank, he could see she was lying on her side, her head resting on an arm that was extended straight up and under his other pillow. A skull-covered t-shirt that looked like it belonged to an obscure metal band, hacked off with a knife to expose her belly like a yoga top. Her long legs were partially covered by black military pants, crudely sawed off at the knees.

Shepard shook his head in amusement; she didn't do a single thing in life without giving it a touch of _fuck you, rules and conventions._

In the darkness, the specks of light in her eyes moved as her gaze shifted to him. "So...how'd I get in? I was reaching out to...I mean, I didn't know if you'd be up - so I was going to ping just once. But the door opened."

"Had EDI add you to the free access list. Well, it's not much of a list. Just me. And you."

She was silent for a long minute. "When?"

"Right after Grunt died. I...remember thinking," he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, "that...if you wanted to talk to me, I wanted...to be sure that you could. I don't know. It was late, I wasn't at my best for thinking clearly..."

"You didn't tell me."

"No." In the darkness, he gave a small shrug. "Not sure how I would have brought that up."

"Didn't take me off the list, either. Y'know, later." she observed quietly.

"No. Never really...thought about it. Other things happened."

After a moment, she sighed. "Glad you didn't."

Shepard was thankful to close that particular topic. "So. Trade you nightmares. Tell me."

The bed shifted as Jack shrugged a shoulder. "Can't. Don't know what it was."

A line appeared between his eyebrows. "So how do you know it was really bad?"

Her eyes were closed as she answered. "'Cause of how I felt. Woke up with all my shit pressed against the ceiling. Biotics only get weird for the bad ones. Then I jump up in bed, ready to punch someone - and datapads 'n heatsinks rain down on me. Would be kind of funny if...y'know, I wasn't ready to cry like a little bitch."

He rolled towards her, propping his head up with one arm. "Lie down on your stomach."

Jack's eyes opened now, and sought his. In the darkness of the room, they were black, somber, and at the moment, suspicious.

Shepard had to smirk at her, shaking his head slightly. "Would you just trust me for _fifteen entire seconds?_"

Not taking her eyes from his, she slowly shifted to lying face-down, stacking her hands under her cheek and resting on them while still watching him.

Holding up his left hand, he made a show of displaying it to her, before reaching over and placing it on her bare lower back. Slowly, he began moving it around, brushing over her skin and gently kneading the tight cord of muscle on either side of her spine.

"What're you doin'?" She was as tense as a child in a dentist's chair.

"Well, I call this 'rubbing your back'." Jack rolled her eyes at his I'm-talking-to-an-idiot response, but accepted it. "Doing something nice for you, hopefully. I'll stop if you say so."

She didn't.

The ex-convict turned her head to face away from him, slowly relaxing and settling into the mattress. His hand rubbed up and down her back, slipping under the back of her shirt as he brushed along the lines of scars and the youthful, smooth skin in between.

With a slow sweep of his fingertips, he followed the ridge of injured flesh that traced her backbone, from the back of her neck to where it vanished under the belt of her pants, and she shivered. His hand roamed up and over one of her narrow shoulders, kneading the tight skin over the scant muscle. After a few minutes of this, he was rewarded with a quiet, rumbling groan.

She immediately stiffened a little - as if waking up from partial sleep - and rose up with a sharp intake of breath. Swinging her legs out over the side, she sat up with her back to him.

"I...gotta go. Gonna go sleep again, uh...or try. Need to be alone."

Gathering her boots and socks, she walked barefoot to his door and exited without looking back.

* * *

For a moment, there was a terrifying sensation of falling. With a panicked intake of breath, Liara's one functional eye snapped open, and for a moment she had no idea where she was. The floor against her face was gritty, hard, and humming the vibration of the engine into her aching and bruised flesh. Her entire body throbbed with a curious mixture of pain and numbness - as if she was feeling terrible discomfort, but merely remembering the sensation from a different time and place.

From the front seat, Nyxeris cursed the bad weather, the side and back of her head only illuminated by the lights of the skycar's controls, and it all came rushing back. Liara closed her eye again and fought back a sob of panic and terror.

It was all real.

Her body was battered and broken. The serum Nyxeris had injected her with - combined with a savage beating, followed by being handcuffed and forced to lay still for so long - made her arms and legs feel distant and disconnected from her body.

Every breath was an effort, the pain in her ribs punishing her for drawing air.

Every beat of her heart shot a spike into her closed eye, her throbbing nose.

Sleeping would be so.

Much.

Eas...

…

A young girl.

Grainy, low-contrast. _A dream?_

No.

Security cameras. _Footage._

A child. Human. A girl. Already with large, beautiful eyes. Full, expressive lips. Long, waist-length chestnut-brown hair.

The table.

The straps.

The surgeons.

Her face.

The screaming without sound.

_Jack. She endured so much. So tiny. For so very long. How could anyone...find the will to live? How can she stand to be around people, knowing what they can do? What they are capable of? She must look at every new person as a monster behind a fake smile. A devil, waiting for the chance to show themselves. They treated her like she had answers they could torture out of her. Except they never asked any questions. And there was nothing she could tell them to make them stop._

_Everyone else - everyone - has a happy memory of sometime. Even if only of something they have now lost. She escaped into reality, already in her teenage years, with not a one._

_From her first remembered moments, she knew this: existence is suffering._

The light.

The warmth.

The strength.

His face.

Above her, his lips coming down to touch her own.

_Shepard. He had a good life. Until he the day he did not. He had rarely left the town he'd grown up in before it was put to the torch. Every family member, friend, neighbor, or acquaintance - shot down and burned, or stolen away forever. No weapons, no defenses, no chance. He was a child, also, but old enough to know that to survive, he must flee. He has no recollection, this farmer's child, of even considering the notion of fighting back. He remembers running, so very clearly. Goddess, I saw it in his mind as if I was living it. It burns him every single day. He saved thousands on Elysium, and fought nearly to his last drop of blood, but for the loss of less than a hundred, he lay in a hospital for six days - agonizing on his failure._

_He tries to fill the deep well of shame inside himself by helping others. But it is never enough. He cannot fill the hole no matter what he does._

_He will never win. Because he remembers running._

_What have I suffered compared to them? Taunts. Harsh words from mother. Judgement. Solitude. I was pathetic to think of these things as hardships._

_But the Goddess, the spirits, the Lord, the homeworlds - they cannot have him, or her, or me. Not today._

_I._

_Will._

_Not._

_Allow it._

Determined to not make a sound, no matter what may come, Liara drew her knees under her while her face still pushed into the floor. Putting her rump into the air, the motion also served to raise her hands above her heart. Draining the blood from her hands may help, every millimeter would count.

After a moment, she wiggled her wrists. She had tensed her fists and arms when Nyxeris had put the cuffs on her, and now - _yes_. There was a slight amount of room, the sharp plastic moved. But not enough to slip off.

Perhaps if it was slippery.

Closing her eye again, the asari scientist put her teeth to her swollen bottom lip - making a vow to herself to not make a sound.

_Pain is nothing. I am nothing._

Her fingernails dug into the flesh of her wrist. Twisting and ripping at the skin. Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip as she willed herself to continue, and she tasted fresh blood in her mouth even as she felt warmth coat her fingers and drip into the seam of her armor at the small of her back.

With a silent prayer to any gods who may exist, she tried again.

Nothing.

One shoulder merely ached while the other stabbed at her like broken glass, robbing her of any strength and control, and she nearly sobbed in frustration and despair.

"T'soni! Stop rolling around back there, or I'll just kick you out the door and you can fall for a minute before you hit the forest."

Writhing her hands and fingers around, she tried to smear her dripping blood into a small pool on her back, and then rub the entire circumference of the cuffs in it. Tears burning in her eyes, she pulled with everything she had, distantly aware of the skin peeling and one thumb threatening to dislocate.

By the tiniest of amounts, the plastic slipped.


	42. Into the Cold Black Earth - pt 2

"Shove over, shithead."

"Wot, alreddy? I jus' got meself comfor..." The words died in Ken's throat as he glanced up over his shoulder, realizing who had spoken to him - and she was _right there_. Wearing green, retro-style camouflage pants that were hacked off at the knees. Long, sinewy arms and lean shoulders inked in violent imagery. A ratty, thin-strapped, tight black muscle-shirt with bolded words in gray, peeling block lettering.

_SUCK_

_MY_

_FUCKING_

_DICK_

Without another sound, he dropped his fork onto his breakfast plate. Grabbing his mug of coffee, Ken shimmied to his left and squeezed closer to Gabriella. Gabby smirked and moved over a bit as well, making additional room at the end of the table for their new guest.

Gracelessly, Jack plopped herself down on the mess bench and dropped her heavy platter in front of her. It was piled with enough food - scrambled eggs (powdered), bacon (simulated from flavored soy protein), fried potato patties (rehydrated from flakes), and toast (fresh from a bread machine, one of the few things actually fully onboard, due to research on fresh bread and starship crew morale) - to feed two lumberjacks. Her large mug of black coffee thumped down next to it, causing some of the nasty black fluid to slop over onto the table.

Hunching over her food protectively, elbows wide, the tattooed woman stabbed her fork deep into her eggs, picked up a chunk of potato with it, and shoved it all into her mouth, followed by a bite of the bacon she was holding in her other hand. Mouth full, she chewed quickly, eyes cast down toward the table top to avoid eye contact with Sarah Patel, who sat opposite her.

"Be polite, Ken. And try to not pee yourself," Gabriella murmured next to him, as she gently poked him in the side with her elbow.

The engineer gave her an incredulous _are-you-fucking-crazy _look, but he was met with an encouraging nod and a pointed look past him, in the direction of the (evidently) ravenous convict. With a sigh, he turned and faced her.

Ken cleared his throat.

"Um. So. Jack?"

The biotic half-turned her head to look at him from the corner of one eye, pausing in mid-chew.

Kenneth was glad for his thin, ginger-red moustache - as it helped conceal the beads of sweat breaking out on his upper lip. Behind him, Gabby paled as she exchanged looks with Sarah. She'd not expected Ken to actually take her _seriously_.

Clearly, it was too late to retreat, so he did the only thing he could - press forward. "I, uh, hear yah...uh...whur teh big hero dun onna groun' misshun yesserdey. I, uh...yah. Yeh stole back teh data pack or, uh, whateveh it wus. So. Um. Good for yeh n' such. Ah mean...uh...good job."

_Ah Jeesus, getten' muh head ripped clean off, 'n dropped inna me breakfus plate whuzzunt teh way ah planned tuh go._

The convict's head swiveled further in his direction, and her eyes narrowed.

Ken blanched as, conversely, his eyes widened. _Angry. She angry? Whut'd I say?_

Across from Jack, Sarah had paused in mid-sip of her orange juice, and, still with it held to her lips, slowly leaned back to create some space.

Gabby picked up her cup of tea and held it high, in the event that Ken might soon be launched across the table.

Slowly, Jack sat up straighter and put her fork down gently, resting the plastic tines on the edge of her plate.

Sitting on a bench, wedged between Gabby and the delivery vehicle of imminent death, Ken was trapped. In his mind, the fog rolled across the bay as the bagpipes played him home.

She finished chewing her enormous mouthful of breakfast, then swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lipstick of deepest red smeared over into her right cheek, as if the Fates decided that at _this_ moment, she needed to look even more psychologically unhinged.

_Mother's there expecting me, Father's waiting, too._

_Lots of folks gathered there. All the friends I knew._

The lanky convict turned to face him, resting her elbow on the table. Ken, in what he assumed were his final moments, took a moment to note that the agent of his death had exceedingly pretty eyes.

She punched him lightly on the arm.

"Thanks, Ken. You and Gabs fuckin' yet?"

Behind him, he heard a choking noise as Gabriella coughed into her teacup, and from the corner of his eye he saw Sarah's eyes go wide.

"Jack, be nice to the crew." Shepard neatly plucked Jack's mug of coffee from the table, and in its place set a tall glass of thick, pale, shake-like mixture. In the same motion, the _Normandy_ captain gave the hot, black beverage an airy slurp.

Snapping her head away from Ken, she glared up at him in surprised outrage. "Hey! That's _my_ fuckin' coffee, you..."

Shepard was casually dressed in his N7 hoodie and jeans, and looked relaxed as he held the mug under his nose and inhaled. "Mmm. Nope, not for you. You're on a nutrition program now, and black coffee is out. _That," _he indicated the gluey goop with a nod of his head, "is a soy protein shake. With banana, so Gardner said. Well, simulated banana. Flavor. Allegedly."

"Maybe...it tastes better than it looks?" Sarah offered unconvincingly, eyeing the wallpaper-paste looking mixture.

"Ah shur hope so, 'cause it looks likah glass o' thermal sealant," Ken muttered, relieved to no longer be the focus of Jack's attention.

"What the fuck, Shep? _Nutrition?_ Look at my plate, I have a whole pile of crap here." The biotic gestured at her tray with both hands emphatically, as if he were blind and stupid.

Pursing his lips in concentration, he nodded. "Mmm hmm. That's a good start. But if you're going to keep working with Samara, you'll need to load up in every way possible. I'll be instructing Gardner to provide food to you every three hours so you can get in five meals a day. You need to gain some weight back." He reached out and poked one of her bony shoulders as emphasis, as she slapped his hand away in irritation "Now, excuse me, I need to go chat with Miranda and Ash in the comm room, before she's released back to her own ship."

He offered her an exaggerated, friendly clap on the shoulder even as a grin grew on his face. "Enjoy your breakfast. And, go change your shirt - this is a _professional workplace_." Still holding her mug, he moved past them and strode towards medbay.

Jack picked up the glass and sniffed it - and grimaced at the result. "This is bullshit, Shepard!" she called after him. It was not until then she noticed he carried a small, strapped pack over one shoulder.

"Not my fault, doctor's orders!" He pointed at the medbay windows as he vanished around the corner and down the hall, as the fading sound of healthy slurp of hot coffee reached them.

Jack followed the direction of his gesture and found Dr. Chakwas looking out at her. Meeting her gaze, the silver-haired physician raised her hand and offered a casual, friendly wave.

Jack replied with a scowl, and shot her hand up to reply with an upraised middle finger.

* * *

Dr. Chakwas chuckled and turned away from the window, shaking her head in amusement.

"What's up?" Ash was buttoning her fatigue shirt, getting dressed after spending the night in medbay for observational purposes.

"Oh, Jack. She's so...socially unfiltered. The reasons _why_ are entirely mortifying - but when her mood is good, she can be very funny. Note that I qualified that statement rather carefully."

"Uh huh. I didn't speak to her, just saw her in passing. Interesting look she has, if you're into scrawny punk rockers on red sand. Anyway, I gotta meet Shepard in the comm room..." Ash wrapped up Dr. Chakwas in a firm hug. "Thanks for picking all of the pointy metal bits out of me, Doc. Missed you."

Karin returned the embrace with a broad smile. "Ashley, darling, you as well. Next time - under less official circumstances, I hope - we can show a bottle of brandy who it's dealing with."

Separating, Ashley leaned back while keeping her hands on the Chakwas' shoulders. "Deal. Hey, keep him in one piece, ok?"

The slender doctor - knowing well who _him_ meant - offered a helpless shrug, and sighed dramatically. "Easier said than..."

"Yeah. I know."

* * *

The doors to the comm room slid smoothly open, and unsurprisingly Miranda Lawson was waiting for him with a scowl. Shepard sipped his coffee again, then raised it at her in greeting.

"Good morning."

"Oh, _don't_, Shepard. Just don't. I am _not_ happy with what you're proposing. I'd outright forbid it if I had the slightest reason to believe you'd listen to me or care about my opinion. I cannot _believe_ we risked you and half of the crew for..._this_." Her arms were folded tightly, and she spent most of her time with her back to him as she paced about the boardroom table. She looked as genuinely angry as he'd ever seen her.

"Miranda, I _do_ care about your opinion. You are, to state the obvious, smarter than me. I don't always need you to agree with me, but I do need you to contribute to the situation and offer your input. Just hear me out, and let me say my piece."

"And when you're done? What if I say _no_?"

Shepard set his mug down, and lifted a sarcastic eyebrow in his XO's direction. "Perhaps we can fight _after_ you say no, rather than arguing over every potential outcome?"

Narrowing her eyes, Miranda opened her mouth to offer a snippy retort when the door swished open.

"'Morning, infamous dead traitor-guy. 'Morning, infamous terrorist cell leader. We have donuts or anything for this early morning chit-chat?" Dressed in carefully generic military fatigues, Ashley Williams tossed a sloppy salute in the general direction of the space between Shepard and Miranda, and helped herself to a chair.

"Oh, good. An _intellectual_ from the Alliance has joined us," Miranda sneered.

Ash returned the look with mockingly wide-eyed innocence. "Hey, if I piss you off, just kidnap my mom and photograph her with a current issue of Westerlund Ne..."

Shepard put his hands on his hips and looked at the ceiling. "That's enough. Put a five-minute timeout on this Alliance-Cerberus crap and let's deal with the issue at hand.

"_One_ - Ash, you were standing beside me when we spoke with Sovereign. You were standing beside me when Sovereign landed on the Citadel. You were standing beside me when Saren broke free for a moment and _shot himself _rather than be enslaved for a single second longer. You were the one who walked down to his body, and _put a bullet into the skull of his corpse. _What got back up and fought us again was no damn turian, cybernetic or no. All this, while a two kilometer long space monster loomed over us fighting against the entire fifth fleet. If you think Reapers don't exist, then..."

Ashley didn't respond, other then a single nod for him to continue.

"Miranda, our entire mission - including the existence of this vessel and the fact that I stand here drawing breath - is based on the Cerberus conclusion that the Collectors are Reaper agents and it is imperative that we stop any action they are hoping to accomplish."

Miranda nodded. "That is our core belief, yes."

Ashley rolled her eyes slightly, and crossed her arms. "This is what you're both _saying_..."

"_Two_ - Ash, we fought thousands of husks. They were deployed as weapons by the geth, who were in turn in the service of Saren, who was serving a Reaper. Hence, husks are ultimately weapons employed by the Reapers. Now, on Horizon, we saw husks being deployed by the _Collectors_. Thus, it is highly likely that Collectors are serving..." He let the statement hang.

"Reapers." Miranda and Ash answered together, then looked at each other and frowned, before looking back to Shepard.

"_Three_ - Mordin has studied the Collectors, and he surmises that they are, in fact, cloned descendents - stabilized and mutated by technology, mind you - of Protheans. Protheans who were wiped out by - again, we _believe_ - Reapers. It would appear - again, his hypothesis - that the Reapers use the very species they are wiping out against itself. Are the husks of today - humans - to be the Collectors of the next cycle? Are we going to allow that?"

Shepard bent forward and leaned on the table with both hands, looking at both women in turn.

"_Four_ - Does _anyone_ in this room think that when the Reapers come in force - as Sovereign promised and we'd better _damn well assume it's true_ - that they will give a _single flying shit_ that two politically and ideologically opposed groups of humans _don't like each other_? They will cut us _all_ down. Cerberus, Alliance, Oriana, your sisters, everyone. They will not care. We will _all_ die. Those of differing opinion? _Get the fuck off of my ship_."

The silence in the room was deafening.

He slid the small pack from his shoulder and dropped it on the table with a _thump_.

"Good. Now then. Let's talk."

* * *

"Muah!"

"Shut up, T'soni. I've been enjoying the quiet."

Disoriented, wrenched forcefully out of unconsciousness, Liara was dragged into a seated position by the hand locked into the collar of her commando armor. The sudden - and forced - change in position made every stiffened joint in her body cry out in protest. Roughly, Nyxeris pulled her forward out into the cold drizzle and darkness, where Liara stumbled as her rubbery legs struggled to support her.

Propelled by a dismissive shove in the back, Liara's knees buckled and - arms still bound behind her - she fell forward helplessly into the mud, her face splashing into a puddle as her sore ribs exploded in misery. Her involuntary gasp of pain only managed to suck in dirty water, and she coughed and sputtered as she curled up into a protective ball.

_Goddess, help me. My ribs. Back. Pain. Everywhere. I can't..._

"Nice place, don't you think?" Liara's former assistant bent at the waist, and stretched out the stiffness from the long duration in the driver's seat. "Didn't cost me a lot, being so far out of the way. We'd have to walk for almost twenty minutes to chat with my closest neighbour. So really, you can scream all you like. Look at all these trees, they really muffle the noise. At night here, when there's no wind, it's really a...different kind of quiet." As she spoke, the older asari turned slowly in a full circle, peering into the distance. "We're six hours north of Nos Astra, now. Flew all the way into a temperate zone. Aren't the mountains pretty?"

Liara didn't answer, shivering in the cold mud at her feet, her eyes closed and trying to breath shallowly to minimize the pain in her chest. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she tried to block out the madness contained in the cheerful chatter, coming from the person who was planning to kill her.

"No appreciation for nature, eh? Spent your whole life in libraries and computer labs, reminding yourself how much better you were than the poor kids. Me, I joined the ancillary forces when I was fifty-three."

Reaching down, she put both hands on the straps of Liara's armor, and started dragging her towards the cabin. She grunted as she talked, pulling her along the slippery grass and weeds in jerks.

"Sure as hell...didn't qualify...for commando training. You know why? My biotics are _shit_. Didn't have...a nice education...like you. Learned some stuff...later. Got my three meals...per day and...eventually...earned my way into training...in finance. Figured if...I didn't have any...credits...I could count...someone else's."

The misting rain in the near-total blackness of the night gave Nyxeris' skin a glistening sheen that reflected the light from the two moons above them. They were behind the cabin now, just past the clearing and into the first of the trees that became a dense wood. With a final pull, Liara was dragged over the roughness of rocks and soil, and not the slippery, rain-soaked grass. In the scant light, Liara turned her head to see a crudely-dug rectangular hole in the ground, next to a common shovel.

Already soaked through with chilled water, Liara shivered violently as her stomach lurched. She had never felt so utterly hated and loathed as at this moment.

"Scared, huh? That's good. That's...good."

With a grunt, Nyxeris seized Liara by the straps of her chest armor with both hands, and pulled her to her feet so their faces were close together.

"That makes it _fun_. I want you to know how I felt when your filthy family took away everything I've ever worked for."

Hanging nearly limply in her arms, Liara fixed her with her one still-functional eye. "Helix...was a...dirty company. You _knew_. Impossible returns. Rampant bribery...of regulators. Got...what you deserv..."

Her words were cut off as Nyxeris furiously slammed her forehead into the smaller scientist's lower face, splitting her already-swollen lip and clicking her teeth together. As her head snapped back from the impact, she sputtered fresh, hot blood from her mouth, and gasped from the pain despite herself.

"SHUT UP! You don't...can't judge me! You're so damned superior! I'll take all your money, and your fine clothes, and your expensive toys...they'll be mine, and _you_ _can rot in this hole!_"

Nyxeris released her grip on Liara with one hand, looked down, and snatched the Predator handgun attached to the thin belt at her waist.

Behind Liara, a thin, white plastic strap - dotted with water drops and smeared with dark, crusted purple - softly hit the dirt at her heels.


	43. Into the Cold Black Earth - pt 3

Uttering a quiet moan - it took Ken a moment to realize it was a noise of _satisfaction_, having never heard anything remotely positive from her before - Jack dropped her plastic fork into her empty plate, where it rested amidst the scraps salt, pepper, and a messy smear of ketchup.

After exchanging a look with Sarah - perhaps to reassure himself that there were, indeed, witnesses present in the event that Jack randomly decided to assault him - he cleared his throat before speaking, while pushing his own plate away.

"Ah woud'na guessed it iffa not seen it 'mehself. Yeh ate more then ah coulda do all the day, ah think."

Leaning back from the table, the convict patted the bare tummy exposed by her half-shirt - for an instant, Ken's eyes followed the gesture, taking in the waspish waist that was striped in black and brown ink, before catching himself and snapping his gaze back up - and she exhaled loudly. "Never spent much time around a biotic, huh? Looks fun, but sometimes you just get fuckin' tired of eating, y'know? Sucks even more when there's only shitty food to be had, 'cause you gotta eat _more_ of it than anyone else."

Gabriella leaned forward so she could see around Ken, and offered the biotic a conspiratorial grin. "No problem there. Ken already eats more shitty food than anyone I've ever seen. And _enjoys_ it."

Furrowing his brow, Ken leaned back while putting his hand to his chest in a wounded fashion. "Wot? Meh taste buds are _highly_ refined ah'll hevyeh know. Like teh cultured gent thet oy ah'm."

Sarah snorted, narrowly avoiding making a mess with the glass of orange juice at her lips.

Gabby fixed Ken with a who-are-you-fooling stare. "Haggis, Ken. _Haggis_. This is all I need to say. I watched you eat it once, remember? _Ugh._ The _one_ time we had dinner together on shore leave, _ever_, and it was at that tacky pub."

"Tack...?"

"_Yes_. It was like a cargo shuttle full of kilts crashed there. Sadly, the wreckage didn't burn."

"Ey! Thet's fine 'n noble Scot'ish 'eritage yer disrespectin'!"

Sarah spoke up. "Speaking of terrifying 'foods' allegedly meant to be consumed..." She looked pointedly at Jack's untouched glass of gray protein shake.

The biotic's eyes followed, and all four of them looked at it silently for a moment, as if deciding what to do with a newly-discovered cockroach. Reaching out, she grasped the glass and tilted it to a forty-five degree angle. The contents held structure and didn't flow in the slightest. Sarah grimaced, and Jack curled her lip dubiously. "Yeah, fuck this. I'm not gonna touchin' it. I'll just feed it to the garbage dispos..."

The biotic looked back up at them, eyes narrowing. "Wait a sec. You guys would rat me out, I bet. Like kids tellin' on me for not eating my fuckin' vegetables."

A full stomach and a good night's sleep was making her uncommonly tolerant of other people, she realized. She was nearly having _fun_ with the company she was keeping.

_Three norms in Cerb uniforms. Unbelievable._

Gabriella smirked. "Well, you're not accusing us of disloyalty to our ship's captain, are you? Actually, I just want to see you - or anyone else - prove that glass of..._whatever_ it is - is physically compatible with human biology."

The biotic scoffed. "Bitch, I've spent more 'n half my life either as a prisoner or a science experiment - I've eaten whatever the asshole of the day slid under my door." With that, she paused and considered something. "Uh, what's haggis, though?"

Before Ken could jump in, Gabriella rattled off the answer as if rehearsed. "Sheep organs, chopped up with onions and oatmeal, mixed with spices. Stuffed into the sheep's stomach so it looks like a football, then you simmer it for a few hours. Then - get this - you actually put it in your mouth."

Jack made a face, like she had just detected a new and nasty smell. "_Fuck_, you're serious? Maybe prison food ain't so bad." As Sarah snickered, Ken uttered a pained sigh and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Still, that's...y'know, meat 'n stuff. It's food. I've had worse."

The tattooed woman picked up the heavy glass. "So, whatever this shit is, it don't scare me."

Tipping the glass up, she opened her mouth and...waited. With reluctance, the gooey mixture finally released with a wet _squelch_, and the entire contents slid forward to impact her face - a large chunk going into her mouth. She quickly lowered her arm again as her other hand clapped over the mess of her lower face. Unprepared, she froze and held the pose for a moment - undecided between chewing the mess up or trying to swallow it whole.

Finally - eyes tightly closed - and with an obvious movement of her throat, she forced it down with a _gulp_. Opening her eyes into slits, she bared her teeth in a death-rictus of disgust and shuddered. She looked like she had stuck the lower half of her face into a bowl of badly-expired yogurt.

The white glop over her mouth parted. "_Fffuuukkk,_" she choked out, spitting flecks of goo onto the table. She had consumed perhaps one-fifth of the tall glass.

Gabby looked away, as if she had just witnessed something too horrifying to process. "That's it, then. My fate is to starve to death. I'm never eating again."

Ken shook his head and made a face somewhere between disgust and awe. "Kee-_riest_. Ah'll not be doubtn' yer courage 'r toughness, thet's fur shure. _Thet_ wus like watchin' a cat choke down a squid _all in one bite_."

Across from Jack, Sarah was now leaning away from the table, as if physical distance would help her forget what she had just seen. "Maybe you were supposed to use a spoon. Or, uh, _a knife and fork_."

Gabriella reached around Ken and slid the biotic a paper napkin across the table surface. "Here. And please, stop. I can't watch that a second time."

Wiping her face, the convict tossed down the soiled napkin and stood, picking up the glass. "Fuckin' guy. _Enjoy your breakfast_, he says. _Banana flavor_, he says. Should find him and fire this whole thing at his fuckin' skull." With a noise of disgust, she headed down the hall to the elevator, still carrying the offending item.

"You're not _really_ going to throw that at Shepard, are you?" asked Sarah as she swiveled around on the bench.

"Nah. Better idea. Gonna dare Joker to try it - I'll tell that little fuck it's for _strong bones_," the biotic responded over her shoulder with a cruel smirk, as she vanished.

Sarah finished her orange juice. "Poor Joker. Think I should call up and warn him? And is it just me, or did she kind of have _fun_ with us, for about...oh, twenty seconds?"

Gabriella elbowed Ken in his side teasingly. "I think she likes you, Ken. Maybe you should ask her out."

"Gabby, it wud be faster if ah jus' shot meself."

* * *

"Miranda. A pleasure, as always. You come with news." The holographic man sipped from his glass of scotch. If he had concerns of any kind, they didn't show.

Miranda willed herself to appear perfectly calm. "Yes. Shepard has successfully retrieved the data pack, as you requested. It is aboard the Normandy. The Cerberus operative was reportedly interrogated by Eclipse, and did not survive the experience. The facility, despite aggressive reinforcement, was sanitized of all personnel."

The Illusive Man unhurriedly enjoyed a single puff from his cigarette before speaking. "There is something else. Go on."

She cleared her throat. "Yes. There was...an unexpected complication."

Silence.

"Council forces beat us there, by only minutes. Ashley Williams, and a salarian crew led by an officer named Kirrahe, from..."

"Virmire." As he spoke, smoke exhaled in a glowing, artificial blue cloud that was dutifully rendered and transmitted across light-years of distance.

Miranda nodded tightly, once. "Yes. Faced with heavier than expected Eclipse opposition, _Normandy_ and Council forces joined together to recover the data. We were successful in this. Williams was injured, and treated aboard the _Normandy_ over my objection to her presence. She's been released, and will be in transit back to her salarian vessel shortly. Shepard is currently seeing her off."

Miranda cleared her throat again.

"Williams...has the data pack with her. In her possession. To return to the Council. Shepard simply handed it over," she stated carefully, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.

"And you allowed this to happen." The Illusive Man's calm voice didn't contain a hint of accusation.

"I had no choice in the matter. If I were to challenge him, very nearly this entire crew would side with him, and cut me down without hesitation. This is _his_ ship, now."

The Illusive Man's face pulled into a slow smile. "Of course it is. This is precisely the reason we brought him back. Anyone can fire a gun, Miranda. Anyone can form the words that are orders. This is what _he_ can do. He can _inspire_."

Realization narrowed her eyes. "You...expected this."

"I have my sources, regarding the Council. I knew they had a lead on our data, and I knew they'd send a team. The encryption is our finest; it will take them months to get anything from the data pack. But _they_ don't know that, so to _them_ it _is_ still a prize - and Shepard handed it over while thinking he was defying me. On the contrary - he's strengthened me. He has solidified his Spectre status and played ball with the Alliance. They'll think he's not loyal to us."

"He's _not_." Miranda pointed out, with a raised brow.

"Of course he isn't. But they may have _thought_ he was. Even his father-figure, Anderson, harboured his doubts. Those doubts will be smoothed over now. Shepard is stronger, more trusted, and more valuable than ever. And he is _ours_."

At the bottom of the quantum transmitter, one of the screens showed activity as data was slowly sent along the same pathway. Miranda looked at the scant amount of information displayed, and furrowed her brow.

"Orbital triangulation data?"

The smoking man nodded, and sipped from his glass again. "As promised."

"Yes. But for what system?"

The Illusive Man considered his drink as he swirled it lazily. "Unknown."

Miranda shook her head in stunned disbelief. "Shepard is expecting a full location in return for committing his entire team to that mission. He will be beyond furious."

"I promised him information that T'Soni can use, and this certainly is just that. If she can ascertain the system the Broker is located in, this data will land her right in his lap. If he _thought_ I had more than this, well, he assumed too much. Besides, he just forwarded Cerberus data to - essentially - the Alliance. He's in no position to be outraged. Also, I have something else. The data includes evidence of drell-specific foodstuffs and medical supplies being brought to that location, but barely enough for one individual."

Miranda blinked in surprise. "Feron." The field agent been written off by Cerberus intel a long time ago. "The Broker has kept him alive, all this time," she mused to herself.

The holographic man nodded. "The Broker has a history of being vindictive."

"Shepard may not even know who Feron is."

"_She_ certainly will. And she can enjoy explaining why he's so notable."

* * *

Nyxeris' hand closed around the wet handle of the Predator, even as the white plastic handcuffs softly hit the dirt at the smaller scientist's heels.

Liara gritted her teeth, and her bruised mouth twisted into a feral, bloody snarl. Her right arm - free for the first time in hours - clumsily swung up in a tight, arcing punch.

Halfway to its target, her fist exploded in flame-orange that, for a single brilliant moment, illuminated them both.

A blazing explosion under a sea of distant, twinkling stars. Silently, they watched as one life was saved at the expense of another.

"_Kai!_" Liara cried.

The orange glow at the end of her arm hit Nyxeris in the side of her neck with a _smack_.

Darkness and silence settled upon them both.

The pistol fell from Nyxeris' fingertips, to land in the wet soil.

Her left hand rose shakily, and gently rested on top of Laira's closed hand, where it was still pressed against the side of her neck, just behind the line of her jaw. With a hissed exhalation through her teeth - that spattered Nyxeris' face with specks of blood and saliva - Liara wrenched her hand free.

The movement dragged from the older asari's neck a glowing orange spike, protruding from the flesh at the top of Liara's right hand. Seconds later, it fizzled and vanished - leaving behind a bloody, ragged puncture that bled freely, leaving drops to fall from her wrist and onto the cold ground.

Nyxeris' eyelids fluttered as she struggled to comprehend what had happened, even as the hot, purple fluid from her core squirted between her fingers.

For a moment, the two simply faced each other, young employer and older - and formerly trusted - advisor and employee.

Silent except for their quickened, harsh breathing.

Then, without a word, Liara put her left hand to the other asari's face and pushed.

Mortally wounded, Nyxeris landed heavily. One shoulder and part of her torso drooped into the opening of the very hole she had excavated for her intended victim. Helplessly, she lay precariously close to sliding in.

The moment of determination and effort passed, Liara swooned with weakness and fell limply to her knees. After a moment, even remaining upright was too much effort, and she fell sprawling to her back.

* * *

All was still, aside from her own exhausted gasping - and the quiet scratching as Nyxeris' free hand clawed at the ground, trying to stop herself from sliding into what would have been Liara's grave.

Long before Shepard had returned - before she had allowed herself to believe Cerberus could succeed in bringing him back to life - Liara's waking moments had been only misery, guilt, and depression.

She had allowed Cerberus - _Cerberus, Goddess, it sounds utterly insane even now_ - to take her love's remains away.

Feron had been taken. He'd thrown himself at the Shadow Broker's men to buy her time to escape with Shepard's corpse. She'd condemned the drell to death or torture for the sake of her selfishness and cowardice.

Because of her inability to let him rest. To let go. To _accept _that a soldier's death was good enough for him, and the galaxy could carry on. What had he quoted, once, about his own fame immediately following the Citadel battle? An exuberant reporter had called him the most important human alive.

_The cemeteries of the world are full of indispensable men._

Cerberus was the only choice easier than mourning. _Goddess forgive me, it was easier than acceptance. _The black void of accepting his death, it was _too much_ to consider facing.

He'd have stopped her, if he could. She knew this.

It hurt more than anything.

After Miranda and her people had taken him away, Liara had hidden herself away in a cheap, nondescript hotel for three full weeks while living under an assumed name. She'd blacked out the two windows with plastic sheets, and paid for room service with a credit chip she'd liberated from the corpse of a batarian pilot. One of the would-be rapists from the vessel that had taken her to Alchera.

The Shadow Broker would want his revenge. Every noise in her run-down building had brought her a surge of terror that he may have found her.

After three weeks, fear had been replaced by restlessness, and she'd reached out for Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. Her mother's liquid assets had paid for secured office space, security systems, and the hardware that Tali would need to assemble a data center and house her brilliantly-written data mining VI, which they had dubbed _Cypher_.

A new resolve had slowly formed - if she was already the Broker's enemy, she may as well be a worthy one. She recruited Tali to be her technical resource - knowing the engineer would be eager not only to help her friend, but that Tali would feel it would be a service to Shepard's memory. It chafed at Liara to take advantage of the quarian's motivations - but the best way to protect her had been to disclose as little as possible regarding the intent behind her first datacenter. Tali could not be a conspirator in something she didn't know about.

Tali had thrown herself into the project, working nearly day and night in secret - and consuming large sums of Benezia's credits to acquire cutting-edge hardware - while Liara had attended to other things. No longer content to rely on her biotics and her scientific knowledge to protect herself, she had prepared for a dirty war in the underground of information. If one had enough money, anything could be purchased - including the acquisition of informants who didn't ask a lot of questions about who their new employer was.

A month later, Tali returned to the flotilla. Behind her, she had left a corporation capable of being run - at its most basic level - by a single person, should they be completely focused upon it. Liara had not been.

Nyxeris had been was hired shortly thereafter to assist with low-level day-to-day operations, while Cypher ran the majority of the real work. Liara had remotely provided strategic decisions when needed, but had been otherwise occupied.

She'd purchased an arsenal of weapons, and had been educated in their use. Her physical fitness had been attended to. Hand-to-hand combat, in her youth a passing dalliance only to please her mother, had been seriously seen to. Then, the blade, for which she had discovered a natural talent and had honed it with a grudging pride.

Then, a surgery. A thin, subdermal omni-knife. Tiny, one-use, hard to detect, and expensive. It had never been intended to kill another.

She had thought of Feron the entire time.

If the Broker ever captured her alive, it would provide a way out.

A way to end her own life.

And there was another, even darker reason she had turned herself into a killer, but she pushed _that_ thought from her mind. Thankfully, it seemed certain now that it would not be necessary. He didn't need to ever know.

Flat on her back in the mud and grass, feeling the light mist on her skin, Liara used the tip of her tongue to reach out and catch a cold drop forming on her bruised and lacerated lips. It was clean, and pure. Like nothing else here.

Liara closed her eyes and gathered her resolve for what was to come. A task remained.

It was remarkably easy, steeling herself. Something had broken inside her today, and it had been replaced.

With something harder. Colder.

Her eyes opened. Liara sat up.

Something unfeeling.

* * *

Nyxeris was dying. She knew this.

Even the strength to keep her hand against her neck was fading, and the blood pumped out of her with less vigor than before. Her extremities tingled, and they felt so very far away. Still, the instinct to fight for life had not entirely fled her, and she clawed at the dirt with her free hand, trying to move, escape, and somehow live.

There was medi-gel in her skycar. If she could...

A shadow fell over her, cast by one of the two moons orbiting overhead.

Another step, and the silhouette of Liara T'Soni loomed over her. From it, her one good eye flared with an inner light, which stared down at her, unblinking.

Slowly, the black form began growing wisps and tendrils of energy that played over her body, as the beginnings of her suppressed biotic power began to return.

Bent, bloodied, partially broken - the young scientist-turned-information-broker stood over her like a great and terrible predator. Using the shovel she had picked up as a crutch, she leaned down and stripped the omni-tool from Nyxeris' wrist.

Dropping it into the dirt at her feet, Liara bared her teeth and viciously stomped on it with the heel of her boot. It _crunched_ as it broke.

Nyxeris knew, with absolute certainly, that words would not save her.

* * *

Striding through customs, the lone asari saw the crowd part before her as she walked, the thumping of her hardshell boots announcing her among the civilians as _something different_. As did her body language.

Every movement said the same thing.

_I am power. I am more than you, and you are less than me._

In Illium's sea of blue, she was a rich shade of violet, with complementing shades of purple for her aggressive facial markings, her lipstick, and her intricate armor. On her back was an arsenal; a heavy handgun, a shotgun, and a well-used battle rifle. Grenades hung from her waist and the bicep of her right arm.

The weight of her gear was nothing to her. She was a head taller than the asari around her; shoulders more broad; longer limbed.

On her shoulder, the purple slab of armor bore a silver symbol. A stylized ghost logo, arms uplifted, rising from unseen depths below.

Entrusted with the highest authority in the galaxy.

Above the law.

For her, the civilians parted without a word.

At the main gate separating the docks from the inner city of Nos Astra, two guards exchanged glances before stepping forward from their posts, hands up.

"Hold. Weapons must be checked at..."

The large asari didn't even bestow them with eye contact and acknowledgement, staring between the pair and into the distance. "_Incorrect_. Who is the commanding authority of this docking port?"

Exchanged glances, again. "Officer Dara is responsib..."

The large asari's left arm came up, and both officers flinched, close to reaching for weapons before the glow of an omni-tool made them release pent-up breaths. With a short series of taps, she released information to the officers.

"Inform her of my presence. Have her pass along to all local law enforcement branches that I am here on business, and I am not to be interfered with. Have six officers on standby at all times, ready to respond to my summons should I require them. If any authorities attempt to detain me, ignorance will _not_ be an excuse and I _will_ use force upon them to ensure I am not delayed in my assignment."

One of the officers looked into her own omni-tool at the data received, which passed through certification and decryption.

_**Spec**__ial __**T**__actics and __**Re**__connaissance. Agent Tela Vasir._

The young officer blanched, and looked up just as the Tela finally moved her gaze, to fix upon her with her dark eyes.

"Now then, _get out of my_ _fucking way_."

* * *

"P...please..." Nyxeris heard herself whisper. She'd told herself she would never beg.

Liara's boot into the side of her chest was the silent response, and she was falling. Into the blackness of a grave that was now only for her.

Landing awkwardly on her shoulder, she rolled over to her back and panted in panic, both hands on her neck. Above her, in the opening to the relative light of the morning sky, stood Liara, still leaning on her shovel.

Staring down. The eye glowing.

"I figured you out nearly a year ago, Nyxeris. I was not _entirely_ certain. But some of the data, the algorithms, were..._concerning_."

From the scientist's battered mouth, the words were slurred slightly. It pained her to speak.

"Liara..." Nyxeris whispered. The corners of her vision were turning black. She was so tired.

"So I planted data for you. Unique data, only for you. Followed the trails. Over time, patterns. Not evidence. But patterns. Just enough."

Using hesitant, jerking motions, as if every movement was paid for in pain, she took the shovel in both hands and shoved it into the pile of dirt next to her, taking up a healthy scoop.

"You were a double-agent for me, Nyxeris. The perfect one. Because you did not know you were doing it. I fed the Broker falsehoods though you, and used misinformation against him. A good deal of my success, is because of _you_, Nyxeris."

"I trusted you, once."

Liara brought the shovel back with a grunt, gaining momentum.

"However..."

From the rain above, in the distance, a stroke of distant lightning. For an instant, Liara's features were illuminated. Her face bore nothing, not even hatred.

The dying asari in the pit tried to scream, but she could only manage a strangled gasp that none would ever hear.

"Your employment with _T'Soni InfoNET_ is _terminated_," Liara grunted, as she swung the shovel forward. "Effective_ immediately._"

The wet dirt struck Nyxeris in the face.


	44. Welcome to Dying

The _Normandy SR-2_ was a combat frigate - a luxurious one, to be sure, and especially by _we're-on-a-budget_ Alliance standards - but nevertheless built with a priority for capability, not comfort. A variety of noises and sensations surrounded Joker at all times, be they mechanical, electronic, or organic - the constant low-level chatter in the CIC far behind him tended to reach his ears easily due to 'the tunnel'.

Jeff Moreau lived in a secret world of white noise resonance that only he knew.

He still "heard" her approaching before she got within twenty meters - after over a month of feeling the same people walking about, the sensation of a new stride stood out like a splash of red on white paper.

The medium-weight steps approached, confident, fast-paced; like every moment spent in transit to the destination was time wasted. Joker grinned. It had been a while.

"Hey handsome, up here all alone?" His hat was plucked from his head and dropped in his lap. A tanned, athletic arm snaked around his neck and soft lips were pressed to his ear with an exaggerated _muah_ sound, even as a heavy duffel was dropped to the floor next to him, clattering from the armor pieces contained within.

With a grin, he reached up and behind him, and hugged the back of her neck through her long, loose hair. "Ash, _babycakes_, you know I can't hang out with the general population. The ladies find it _way_ too distracting, the other guys never get laid - hurt feelings all around...you know."

The special forces operative-in-training pulled back from him enough to show a wide, teeth-filled grin. "Oh, that is _so_ true. Look me up next time you're on the Citadel. Guess I'm heading there for some political bullshit. We'll get drinks 'n hit the dance floor, huh?"

Jeff fixed her with his best_ are-you-stupid-or-what_ look. "Yeah, good call, Chief. Shattering my shins in public is a thing I often look forward to. That's my _favorite_."

"Oh, shut up, don't worry about that. You can prop up a wall, and I'll hang out next to you and shake my ass a little. You'll look taken and all the liquored-up slutty party girls will keep their distance."

"Yeah, thanks for that. You know I hate spending my evenings fending off hot, sweaty, liquored-up bitches. What a_ paaaaaaaaain_ it is. So _tiiiiiiime-consuming_." Holding up both hands, he rolled his eyes in mock boredom.

With a bright laugh, she poked his ribs with her finger, making him twitch. "Hey, little man, you kid. But I _saw_ you in the corner, playing tongue-hockey with short-blonde-hair-chickie in Purgatory-"

Joker snorted. "Ash. That was two days after Sovereign tried to eat the Citadel like a fruit basket. _Everyone_ was riding a drunken high on still being alive, and let's just say that alcohol was definitely involved. _And_ the '_heroic Normandy pilot_' was - briefly - somewhat notable. As I recall, you had about four hundred dudes fighting over you with knives and broken beer bottles."

Ash gave an overly-casual flip of her loose, long hair, and adopted an archly serious face. "Nothing unusual."

"Riiiight."

She gently punched him on the arm, smirking. "No, seriously. You, me, Purgatory. Let's _do_ this thing. I'll getcha laid, promise. Just shave first. Also, I gotta ask, what the hell is _that_?"

Joker followed her pointed finger, to the fold-out beverage-holder in the armrest of his chair - something you'd never see on an Alliance-designed vessel.

"Thatis a 'protein shake' that Gardner and Chakwas whipped up for Jack. She dared me to drink it, like, five minutes before you showed up here. _Then_ she stuck a fork in it, and said it would 'help'." He glanced at the gluey concoction. "Please note that the fork is still standing vertically, entirely on its own."

Ash's eyebrows raised. "The tatted-up crazy prison-girl? She just randomly visits you? I read a little intel report on her before I shipped out - said she was murderous batshit-crazy and powerful as hell. Red flags all over the file. '_Do not engage without platoon-strength force or greater_.'"

Joker rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Well. I dunno. Shepard seems to have her dialed back a few notches. I mean, yeah, I guess she's _capable_ of going straight off the rails. But, you know, she goes on missions, more or less follows orders - she's been pulling her weight as well as anyone," he shrugged. "Hey, back in the day he eventually got Wrex to toe the line."

A crease appeared between Ash's eyebrows, as she thought back to a time when she pulled a Predator handgun and aimed it at the krogan's back, as he angrily confronted Shepard. "Yeah. Barely, but yeah. I guess nothing's changed. So"-she gestured at the glass-"did you? Drink some?"

"Wha? No way. If _Jack_ thinks there is something wrong with it...forget it. I was going to dump it when I went down to the mess, next. She can call me a pussy for the next month, if she really wan-"

"_Joker, Shepard. Prep the ship for relay-jump. We're off as soon as Ash departs, and Kirrahe is bringing a shuttle over as we speak. Is she with you?"_

"I'm right here, Skipper."

"_I'll meet you in the shuttle bay in five minutes."_

* * *

Shepard had just reached his own door, when the request-for-entrance alarm chirped. Touching the sensor with his fingertips, it swiped open immediately. Clearly not expecting him to be _right there_, Kasumi jumped and rocked back a step in surprise, before she grinned.

"Hah, hi! Not often that someone startles _me_ like that."

Shepard offered a friendly smirk and leaned against the edge of the doorway. "It's good for you. Shows you how other people live in terror of your skulking about."

"I don't _skulk_, how nefarious-sounding." Her head tilted as she considered her own words. "No, wait, I like it. _Skuuulllking_. I could wear a mask. Anyway, got a minute?"

"You've got four, so you talk, I listen. C'mon in." The diminutive thief followed the soldier back into his room, and she went directly to his desk. Pulling from her pockets six credit chips, she neatly placed them in a line next to his terminal, as he sat down in front of it.

Leaning back, he folded his arms. "Okay. What am I looking at?"

Hopping up, Kasumi comfortably perched her butt on his desk, swinging her feet freely above the floor like a small child as she looked around. "Hey, you make ship models...?" She shook her head in self-bemusement. "Right, four minutes. Focus. Short version. Lorek. The ground crew - oddly _without_ our chisel-jawed commander and our underdressed, profane, and emotionally unstable young biotic girl for nearly an entire day while they spent the night alone in some sort of a darkened cave..." her lips pursed as she regarded him with glittering eyes, concealed in the depths of her hood. At his eye-roll, she grinned and continued.

"Well, first we - _heroically_, I might add - repelled a counter-attack by ill-tempered mercenaries and soulless mechs - admittedly with dramatically-timed assistance from the _Normandy_, led by the cold-hearted but gloriously busty Miranda Lawson..."

Shepard held out his hand, palm out in a _stop_ gesture. "You're really going to push your four minutes, aren't you?"

The young asian woman shrugged, and showed her teeth in a wide smile. "Hah, I can't resist dressing up a good story. Ok, I'll gloss over the romantic action-adventure tale and keep it _real_, yo. So, I was left to my own devices, for the most part, while the others were mucking about either searching for you, or attending to Ash, or whatnot. So, being who I am, I applied my skills and, well, kind of robbed Eclipse blind."

"Excuse me?" Shepard's right eyebrow moved up a fraction.

"Well, see, the _issue_ with a fortified little site like _that_ is...they felt pretty safe. That leads to sloppiness in security protocols. I found a few open terminals, used those to hack the network, and gained access to the _site manager's_ terminal. He had a fairly generous amount of purchasing power in his account, what with being tasked with maintenance expenses, equipment approvals, paying contracts for construction or repairs, blah blah. _Sooooooo_ I, uh, drained his coffers and transferred the funds to those blank chips I happened to have on me. For making unexpected, anonymous withdrawals, you understand."

"Riiiight. How much did you get?"

"Five hundred and eighty-three thousand."

Shepard didn't so much as blink. His stone-faced stare, however, was a reaction all its own. For a long moment they simply faced each other.

"You're fucking with me," he guessed, intoning the words gravely.

Kasumi snorted a laugh, and happily clapped her hands. "Oh! What you just did there. _So_ worth it. No, I assure you that I'm quite serious."

Shepard blinked and pondered the angles. "Okay. Why didn't you just keep it?"

"Shep, I've been a quote-unquote 'professional thief' my whole life, and I'm good enough at it that I was a millionaire by the time I was twenty-one. It stopped being about the money a long time ago. Now, I get the money because I need to see _if I can do it_. It may be semantics, but-"

The captain offered a brief, dismissive wave of his hand. "No, I get you. Hell, it's a small step between a soldier and a killer, so you don't have to-"

"And don't _you_ ever call yourself that. Shep, you've done nothing but...well, you looked out for me when...well, you know." Kasumi looked down, concealing her face in her hood as she lowered her voice. "Aw, I don't want get all emotional about it again, but you were there for me when there was nothing in it for you. I _had_ to do this. Besides, you guys got me in there by facing down the bullets. What was I gonna do, pretend I did it all myself?

"Anyway, we lost _two_ shuttles on that mission, and the Eclipse ones we stole back from the base will need some work to get them in spec and trustworthy - who knows what little bugs could be hiding on those things - so at least the refurbishment costs on Illium will be covered - with plenty left."

Shepard stood. "Alright, time's up. Take half, and put it on Miranda's desk. Operational funds. Give the other half to Kelly. Have her split it evenly between the entire crew - even shares. Gotta run - you can show yourself out. And don't steal my stuff." He grinned and clapped her on the shoulder as he strode past her to his door. "I'd give you a double share, but I'm sure you skimmed a little off the top before you walked in here."

Behind him, he heard her sputter in indignation. "I...hey! I'm _outraged_ that you'd even _think_ that I'd take...more than five percent. Or thereabouts. I have expenses too, you know! Hooded ninja outfits that hug your ass _just right_ don't just come off the rack-"

He was still chuckling when his door closed behind him.

* * *

Arriving in the shuttle bay, Shepard found that it was occupied by the salarian-designed shuttle piloted in by Kirrahe himself, sitting between the two liberated Eclipse shuttles, still flying the mercenary company's colors. The famed salarian officer was being chatted up by an animated Mordin Solus, while a dubious-looking Ashley was being sent off by an extra-cheerful Kelly Chambers, who was just presenting the soldier - straight-backed, duffel bag over one shoulder, crisp and fit-looking - with a small gift-bag and a bottle of wine with a red bow attached to it.

At Shepard's approach, Kelly seized Ashley's free hand and pumped it enthusiastically within both of hers.

"Again, Lt. Williams, ma'am, _so_ honoured to meet you. Yet another Hero of the Citadel right here on the _Normandy_! This has been _great_. Just imagine if we'd had yourself and Miss T'Soni here at the same time, that would have been _quite_ the vid-capture, all together with Garrus and Shepard! A reunion! Oh well. Anyway, Miss Goto sends her regards with that bottle of wine, and asked that I again offer apologies. I'm not sure for what, exactly, but she said you'd know. Oh! The Commander is here to see you off, so I'll leave you two alone. Have a safe return trip!"

With that, the redhead passed by Shepard - flashing him a grin and a drive-by salute as she passed - and trotted back to the elevator to catch the still-open door.

Ash smirked and shrugged helplessly, the wine bottle in one hand - the small purple gift-bag hanging by the handle looped over her forearm - contrasting with her navy Alliance fatigues and her standard-issue grey duffel bag.

"Hey, Skip. Interesting crew you have here. If that Kelly girl had been trying to please me any harder, she'd have been offering me dinner, a handjob, and a cuddle."

Shepard offered a short bark of surprised laughter as, together, the two soldiers walked up the shuttle ramp. "Hell, Ash, that sounds like a pretty good date to me. Don't think you're her type, though - she seems to like exploring her non-human options."

"She doesn't get a lot of respect from some of the soldier-types, but I'd have her along anytime. She's smoothed over a lot of little irritations between the crew and has been great for the general morale. She's smarter than she lets on, too. Part of her little game to get people to open up to her." After Ash dumped her bag into a cargo pod, Shepard held out his hand for the wine bottle, and she passed it over.

"Knowing Kasumi," he remarked, looking at the label and making a face of bewilderment. "This was stolen from someone both _very_ wealthy and _very_ unsavory - she has a serious Robin Hood streak. I have a story for you sometime - about her, me, and being inside the treasure vault of a criminal weapon-trading baron."

Ash rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that fact will be all the talk at the next cheese-tasting party I hold. Do her a favor and _don't_ tell her that chances are I'll drink this straight from the bottle - alone, mind you - while lying on a couch eating a ham sandwich as I watch a shitty vid." She glanced into the little gift-bag...then quickly closed it as her eyes bulged, her face reddening. Striding past Shepard, she dropped it into the cargo pod and quickly closed it.

The Normandy captain handed the bottle back to her when she turned around again, not noticing her change in color. Over the next few minutes they completed their goodbyes, not noticing that in the distance the elevator opened and closed, seemingly without anyone having summoned it.

* * *

One deck above, Kelly tapped her foot impatiently, looking down into the shuttle bay through the viewing windows. She spun around as the elevator opened behind her, and Kasumi materialized as she stepped out.

"Well? Did she...?"

"Oh my GOD, her face! Her _face_, Kelly. She got it away from Shepard as fast as possible, trying to be cool about it, and then she ditched the bag like it was full of spiders." The two women nearly collapsed in giggles as they high-fived and poked at each other like children.

When she could speak again, Kelly wiped her eyes and collected herself. "I have to ask, where did you find handcuffs...?"

Kasumi adopted a serious face, as if the question was of grave importance. "Garrus' room. He had three pairs."

Kelly's mouth dropped open. "You are _shitting_ me. No, wait, _of course!_ He used to be a cop! My brain went...wow, ok, I need to un-blow my mind here. I...had twenty visuals all at once. None of them bad."

Kasumi was still laughing at the redhead's reaction. "Oh, this is the best day ever. Ok, now, you...why did you have an unopened 90ml bottle of sex-lube just _lying around_ to re-gift?"

Kelly held out both hands and shook her head furiously. "I didn't! Not from lack of want...but...it's from Chakwas' cabinet. Oh, whoa whoa, no! Don't look at me like that! Not from her _room_, from medbay. It's for surgical...argh, nevermind. Anyway, I made a new label from the fabricator. I did about six of them - I kept coming up with dirtier logos and stupider names. Oh, God, I was laughing so hard."

"I can imagine. I mean, _Boner Grease_ is just..." the thief doubled over as she cracked up, again. "Oh...I...I can't even..._Boner Grease!_" The hallway filled with breathless giggles.

* * *

Three hundred kilometers away from the cabin, in the industrial city of Livadia, Liara T'Soni rode away from the mechanical sounds of a skycar being dismantled into parts for illegal resale. She may have lost the valuable assistance of Nyxeris' employment, but at least she'd gained seven thousand credits from the illegal sale of her stolen skycar, she thought sourly. A long tram ride home to Nos Astra was now in the works, as she sank back into the rear seat of the cab that was taking her to the monorail station.

A glance at the driver ahead of her confirmed her initial impression. In this city, in contrast to the capital, people worked hard for whatever they could get, and didn't give a damn for anything else. Her skycar pilot had taken one look at her passenger, with the badly-bruised face and battered wrists and hands - taking note of the dirty armor and Predator handgun at her waist - and had merely asked for the fee upfront. She'd not looked at her since.

The next twelve minutes passed in complete silence.

Arriving at the station in the quiet morning hours, the orange morning light of Tasale cast a rare warmth over her as she stepped out of the vehicle. Stepping to the driver's window, she gestured for it to be lowered, which the driver complied with after a moment's hesitation. Liara leaned in, one arm bracing herself against the cab's door frame.

"Here," she stated, passing over another credit chip, before fixing the driver with her icy blue eyes - one wide and clear, one blackened and squinted. "Five hundred in addition. When you arrived to pick up for the call, the person was gone. You wasted your time. _You never saw me._ I will check the records later. If this fare shows up there in any way, I will have people visit you at home."

Without a word, the driver nodded slowly, and the window raised again. Liara didn't budge as the car gently lifted off and retreated back into the morning sky.

* * *

Stepping out of her morning shower - forty-five minutes earlier than her normal schedule, today - Dr. Lucía Casales grabbed a monogrammed white towel and dried herself. Vigorously rubbing at her shoulder-length black hair, cut into a severe bob, she was already reciting her speech, her mouth moving with the silent words.

Meta-materials, third-order cybernetics, branch-predictive decision support systems, AI-powered cognitive psychology, and twelve different areas of synthetic biology that she was still in process of dumbing-down for her audience.

Perhaps it was better to not think of her audience. Less than two hundred people, but all technical leaders in their related fields. Her every word would be analyzed, dissected, and argued over. At least, she thought, afterwards there would be a lavish catered dinner - she'd need the wine by then.

Standing nude in the steamy room, before her marble sink, she wiped some of the mist from the mirror and gave herself a hard look. Not quite thirty, olive skinned and lean - she was an avid long-distance cyclist - she decided she looked pretty good. _I'll wear the yellow dress. If I'm not convincing or impressive, at least they'll still pay attention._

Lucía wrapped herself in her towel and, leaving the lights off, padded quickly back to the master bedroom - it was very early, and the floor was _cold_. Slipping into her room, she dressed quietly in her walk-in closet so as to not disturb the still-sleeping man in her bed.

As she quietly walked back out, barefoot and carrying her shoes in one hand, she bent and kissed his stubbled cheek.

"Mmph...g'luck today honey..." he managed, turning over and burying himself back in his pillow. He wasn't due to be up for work for nearly two more hours. She grinned at his not-a-morning-person routine and poked him once, for good measure. "Thanks babe, see you tonight. Late, though, remember?"

"Mmn."

A quick visit back in the washroom to tidy up her hair, and to apply a token amount of makeup, and she decided she was as ready as she was going to be.

Lucía made it three steps into her darkened carport - her hand not quite touching the door handle - when the thick, black cloth bag snapped down over her head, and her arms were seized by armored hands and wrenched behind her. Her half-scream was muffled by the layers of fabric even before she was cut off by a blow to the head.

"Shut up," ordered a gruff, digitized voice - off to the side, not the one behind her.

"No need to strike her. She won't struggle or attempt to speak, isn't that correct?" This from another voice, directly in front of her. Smooth, deeper in tone, and menacing. At least three men surrounded her, and her knees weakened in terror. "Put her in the skycar - and we'll take hers, as well. Her being gone without it would bring questions very quickly."

A pinprick stung her bare arm, and seconds later the strength fled her limbs. Her mind already fuzzy, she was distantly aware of being loaded into her own vehicle, being held up on either side by armored bodies. The same man spoke once more.

The deep voice would be her last living memory.

"Cerberus welcomes you to service."


	45. One Last Sunset - 1 of 4

"What certainty do we have that she'll return to her primary residence or office, today, at all?"

Tela Vasir exhaled through her nose in mild annoyance, turning away from the window to face the source of the question - a lightly-armored turian, smaller in stature than was usual for his kind. She wasn't one to suffer fools gladly, but Dros was a seasoned pro _and_ a longtime employee of the Broker, and admittedly the question was reasonable enough.

"T'Soni is said to be absolutely addicted to her work - and presuming that Nyxeris' failure to report in also means that she is dead, it's only a matter of time before Liara returns to - at least - collect some of her materials before going into hiding. She may even be preparing to move her base of operations. We'll need to get her before that happens, she's far too smart for us to give her a chance to make plans and execute on them. We need to hit her while she's still recovering from the recent actions taken against her - she should be worn down and prone to errors, by now."

Crossing her arms as she turned away, the asari Spectre looked again out the window - staring through the crisscrossing skycar traffic to the ordinary-looking office across the avenue. Vasir's temporary base of operations was an unleased office that had a direct view of Liara's.

Without taking her eyes from the unadorned windows of T'Soni Infonet, Vasir half-turned to address her colleague. "If you see T'Soni first, and alone - drop her. Alive, she's of little additional value, and she's far more dangerous than she looks. She left a trail of bodies behind her on Omega when she stole Shepard away from the Broker in the first place. Do _not_ give her time to think and plan - she will be the smartest person in the room at all times, and don't forget it."

Behind her, she heard Dros' light armor creak as he shifted his weight to his other foot. "You mentioned that Shepard may show up."

The large, athletic asari nodded to herself. "If he does, hold fire until I can get there; focus fire on his companions when the engagement starts - he rarely travels alone. Always assume that whoever is with him is _highly_ dangerous, because it seems that Shepard and the best talent there is tend to seek each other out. If you accidently kill Shepard"-she turned her back fully to Dros, again-"_that_ would reduce my bounty greatly, and reduce _your_ ability to see the end of your natural lifespan by even more."

The Council Spectre didn't bother to look back at the turian sniper, and her threat was spoken with matter-of-factness rather than venom; she'd worked with Dros before, and he knew his job well - as well as his place.

The Spectre lifted one hand from her crossed arms and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "_Especially_ if it's Vakarian. He'll send a return shot right back through your scope if you don't get him first. Take Enzod with you as your close support - I'll be here watching her office. If Shepard shows, notify me and take no action. If it's T'Soni...call it in and be ready to terminate."

The turian's reflection in the window - highlighted by the yellow stripes on his face - nodded, thoughtfully. "As you directed, we'll set up on the building across from her residence." To underline his intent, he reached over his shoulder and patted the M-29 Incisor sniper rifle attached to the back of the harness that crossed his chest._ "_Why do we expect him? Why now?"

The asari squinted, glaring at the building in the distance. "The _Broker_ expects him. That's good enough for me."

* * *

The commanding officer of the Normandy SR-2 stepped out of the elevator and onto the crew deck, and walked around the semicircle of the hallway towards the mess hall. Already he could hear the conversations and laughter from the all-hands gathering that would be waiting there. Stepping around the corner into view, the noise quickly died down as his presence was noticed. Within seconds, there was silence, except for the clang of a metal spoon as Gardner paused in his meal preparations - explaining the aroma of garlicky tomato sauce that permeated the area.

With all eyes on him, Shepard strode to the stairs that led up and into the main gun battery, before he turned and faced his crew. He took a moment to note the assembled crowd - gathered in their entirety for the first time since the ceremony for the delivery of the pod that had served as Grunt's casket - and nodded in appreciation. "Thank you every-" he stopped abruptly. "Where's Jack?"

There was a moment of shared looks, murmurs, and shrugs, before EDI's voice filled the room from the overhead speakers. "Miss Jack is in the shuttle bay, using the exercise facilities. She is using isolation in-ear monitors while listening to - I assume - music, and is unable to hear me at this..."

Shepard raised his hand and the _Normandy's_ AI silenced. "Did she start listening to music _before or after_ you announced the all-hands meeting?"

There was the distinct and unusual silence of a machine hesitating to answer a question. "After, Commander."

Shepard's face tightened in sudden anger, and in the several seconds of silence that followed, many glances were exchanged before Shepard spoke again. "Thank you, EDI. I'll deal with that, _later_. Thank you, everyone else, for showing. I'll make this relatively short - and relax, it's good news. We had a tough mission on Lorek, and we lost our shuttles there - while stealing a couple back from the Eclipse forces. So, we're heading to Illium again, both to get parts to re-engineer them so we're confident enough to use them on missions, and also - again, to do a few Normandy upgrades. It seems like we were just there, but it looks like you're getting a little more shore leave."

Despite the recent stab of temper that was threatening to thud into his ears, he had to suppress a grin at the restrained whooping of the crew. He held up his hand and they quieted down. "There's more. We have a mystery benefactor who liberated funds from the Eclipse base. In order to protect her identity, we'll only refer to her by the code name 'Kasumi'..." There was a smattering of laughter, and he saw Kelly punch the thief's arm.

"And I've decided to evenly distribute half of the loot - we'll call the rest 'boring mission expenses' - so, just before you ship out to Illium, Kelly will be handing out credit chips to each of you. Six thousand per person, regardless of your station. This does not...THIS DOES NOT..." - he had to raise his voice above a fresh surge of cheering - "mean that you're going to blow it on boozing it up and getting arrested, nor is this to be used for 'bail money'." More laughter.

"Still - have a good time, do some shopping, and keep it more or less clean. _Don't buy anything that is only legal in the Terminus systems_ - that would also be a good rule to follow. We arrive at Illium in about seven hours. Gardner has informed me that in one hour we're having spaghetti and meatballs, and - possibly more importantly - we're breaking out the red wine from the ship's special stores for this one. Dismissed!"

People were still laughing and talking excitedly when the elevator doors closed behind the ship's captain, and he was lowered away from the crew deck.

"I think Jack's about to get her ass whupped!" chirped Matthews, and several people around him chuckled and made comments of agreement. "I gotta see this - the window overlooking the shuttle ba-"

At the edge of the gathering, Garrus' elbow made a nearly imperceptible twitch and tapped Miranda's arm, who stood silently beside him. After the following exchanged glance, she spoke loudly over the din of conversation.

"Matthews! In my office, right now. We're going to chat about respecting your commanding officer's disciplinary practices. In _private_."

Zach's face fell, and he blanched slightly at the sudden silence in the room as all eyes turned to him. After a speechless moment, he nodded glumly and walked to the Cerberus officer's quarters. Once they had both gone inside, Garrus crossed his arms over his blue armor, and his eyes glinted darkly as he addressed the room - his gaze paying special attention to the white-uniformed Cerberus crew who were clustered together.

"You all should be grateful, you _could_ be under the command of a by-the-book hardass. Shepard runs a notoriously loose ship, and he always has - and he even took some shit for it back in his Alliance days. But he treats his crew like competent professionals, and all he asks in return is that they be _just that_. See you all in an hour."

The turian abruptly spun in place and strode up the stairs leading to the gunnery station, walking past Tali'Zorah as he went. As he passed the quarian, he caught her whisper as she leaned in towards him, touching his arm with the tip of one finger.

"I _love_ it when you're bossy."

* * *

Centimeters from Shepard's face, the elevator doors parted. He was stepping out before they even thumped fully into their recessed housings - his strides long and fast. He saw Jack immediately - her being the only moving, living thing in the shuttle bay. Her back was to him as she jogged at high speed on the treadmill, and he could see the strap of a set of wireless headphones crossing the back of her head, barely nestled in the hair that she was slowly growing out.

As he approached, he purposely avoided looking at her body - not wanting to take the edge off of his displeasure by thinking about how he'd never observed her actively exercising before. She wore her black belly-shirt, skin tight and dampened with her sweat. Without seeing the front, he knew it was her favorite one - the one with the PORN STAR logo stretched her small breasts, gifted from Kasumi.

The red shorts she was wearing, made of a shiny, synthetic material - _those_ he had never seen before. Oversized for her narrow hips, they were tightly cinched at her waist, but still swished around the tops of her slender thighs as she ran effortlessly.

She'd spent so much time of her - minimal - time out and about with the crew wearing large, clunky knee-boots and fatigue pants. Now, seeing her legs on display - the vertebrae-like designs painting her youthful, smooth skin - flowing down her bare legs until they vanished into her ankle-socks...and in her yellow running shoes, her feet looked shockingly tiny...and...

_And...?_

_Well, dammit._

Now, fueled by an annoyance with himself as well as with her, he strode beside her and slapped his hand down on the treadmill, hitting the red _stop _button. With a surprised yell, she nearly tumbled to the floor as she awkwardly hopped off of the rapidly decelerating machine.

The biotic angrily ripped the small headphones from her head, her chest heaving with heavy breathing as sweat dripped from her nose. Her face was red and flushed, both from exertion and now, anger.

"What the _fuck_, Shepard!?"

His anger mirroring her own, he leaned in close and hissed his words. "Exactly, Jack, _what the fuck_? What part of _all hands meeting_ do you not comprehend? Every single other person on the _Normandy_ was there. Everyone, but _you_." He punctuated the words with a point of his finger, close to her face.

Her face twisted in irritation, she smacked his pointing finger away. "So the fuck what? You know I don't like crowds, and..."

He leaned in even closer, his nose almost touching hers. "That's _not good enough_. You're _crew_. Hell, _I'm_ crew. We serve the ship and the mission, and we have responsibilities to do some unpleasant things to get the job done, if need-"

"_Bullshit!" _Her face twisted up with a sneer. "I am _not_ your crew. When the fuck did I sign up for a job? You offered me a way off of a fucked-up prison ship! What was I gonna do? Wait for the next shuttle and use my fuckin' bus pass?"

"That's cute. Is that it? You don't give a shit, now? You think it's fine to kick me in the balls by showing off that you - and only you - deserve special treatment by only doing what you feel like doing? Everyone upstairs is willing to fight and bleed and _die_ for this mission, and you think it's fucking _funny_ to try to undermine my authority on this ship - thinking you can get away with it because we might have something going on? I won't allow-"

"What?" Her face was still red and wet with sweat, but in an instant all of the enraged energy had fled her eyes.

He blinked in return, his sudden confusion stalling him. "What? What do you mean, _what?_"

"Undermine? I didn't..." Abruptly she spun away to turn her back to him, and jammed her hands on her hips as she walked away with three quick steps. After a moment, she turned back after having put some distance between them, and crossed her arms tightly. "I wasn't thinking about any of that stuff, that's not what I was trying to do! I just can't handle all those people jammed into one room, and...shit, I-"

Shepard rubbed his eyes with one hand, and made an effort to control his own temper. Jack, of all people, had just been the one to defuse the explosion that was threatening to happen between them. "Ok. That may not have been your intention. It may have just been-"

"Ignorance?" She asked mockingly, one eyebrow raised.

He regarded her steadily. "I wasn't going to say that, but...yes, essentially. If one link of the chain is out of control, the whole structure is weakened. So it can't be allowed, not even with you. You're part of the team now, either all the way or not at all."

Jack crossed her arms, and rolled her neck - as if relieving the tension she'd been holding in. "Right. Okay. I get it. I've been on other ships, I've seen this little game. They didn't have as many rules n' shit, because they were all mercs n' pirates, but I get you."

Finally calm, Shepard spoke evenly. "Okay. Now listen - you'll be punished, just the same as anyone else would. No more and no less."

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, but she followed that with a small nod. "Fair's fair. Well, lay it on me."

The _Normandy_ captain crossed his arms to mirror her posture, and looked up at the ceiling in thought. "In this case. Highly visible infraction...highly visible penalty and payback."

The biotic frowned. "Starting to regret caving in so easi..."

Shepard nodded at the elevator. "Right. Take a shower, get cleaned up and dressed. Report to Gardner."

"What?"

* * *

The first person in line was - of course - Jeff Moreau.

Clasping his hands before him, he waited patiently to be served, smiling broadly at the person across the serving table until she finally met his eyes, scowling expectedly.

"Hi! Well, this all looks really good. Ok, so, yeah...pretty hungry, so the spaghetti plate, of course. Two garlic bread slices, if you don't mind. Oh, four meatballs each? Can I have an extra one? Skipped breakfast."

There was a deep, calming breath - followed by his plate being assembled with the clanking of cutlery - a little too hard to be entirely friendly.

"And some of the white cheese. Parmesan? Right, please."

A glare, followed by a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese.

Joker nodded in appreciation. "Sweet, thanks. The little green onions? Chives? Just a little. Tossed on top."

After a moment's hesitation, a pinch of chives was taken, and held over his plate.

Jeff held out his hand in a _stop_ gesture. "Whoop! A little higher, please. Scatters them more artfully over the plate. Presentation is everything, amiright?"

The hand holding the chives over his plate froze, hesitated, before moving higher above his plate - and very slowly the fingers rubbed together, dusting his plate with tiny, savory onion bits. The entire time, her eyes bore into his. Her face was stone-like, unmoving, while his bore a wide, toothy smile of friendliness.

"Thanks, Jack! This looks great."

Slowly, the plate was handed over towards him - she'd still not blinked a single time. Still smiling, he took the plate, and - she didn't let go. For a moment, there was a light tug-of-war, and she leaned in towards him over the plate of food.

"I'll get you for this, you little _fuck_," she whispered. "I'll find some bones you've never broken before, and I'll _break them against each other._"

For an instant, Joker felt a tingle of terror move up his spine - thinking the teasing had just gone past a deadly point of no return - but he saw the corner of her mouth twitch, and something different than honest anger in her eyes.

With a final tug, he popped the plate out of her grasp and picked up a fork from the bin at the end of the table, beside her. "Thank you, Jack! I _will_ enjoy my meal!" he said loudly, and with a wide grin, limped back to the main mess table.

The second person in line was - _of course_ - Kasumi Goto.

"Hi Jack! I'll have what he had. With the chive sprinkle thing, that looked great." Her wide smile was impossibly bright.

Jack stared at her for a moment before bowing her head and pressing her fist into the space just above her nose. The whole crew. She'd have to kill the whole crew. It would be messy.

"Can we hurry it up?" The diminutive thief patted her flat stomach. "Mama's hungry and she's gotta feed the beast."

The whole crew. Messy.

* * *

The overloaded 70-kilogram bag swayed before him on a heavy chain. Lightly balancing on the balls of his feet, he slammed his fists into it with a combination of high and low punches that blurred together - each impact rocking the ponderous equipment with a shockwave of impact, the sound like a machine gun. Often he mixed in a knee-strike, or a low side-kick, his shin slamming into the bag, making it jump far out to the side. When it returned, it was met by another flurry of punches and elbows.

Even as the Normandy dashed through space to Illium, the stars streaking past as they burned fuel at FTL speeds, he could not shake the feeling they were falling behind - that they were racing time and losing. The Illusive Man's voice echoed in his head, over and over, on repeat.

"_In the time since the incident of your death, Shepard, she has largely been on a singular mission. I won't betray the nature of this mission, but the information I have would potentially lead to the cumulation of this quest. "_

Liara.

Only a few hours remained. He felt like he may use every minute of it. He had nervous energy to spend, anxiety to smother.

Fear to torch and burn.

* * *

With a groan, Joker sank back into the pilot's seat and patted his stomach in appreciation. "I think we finally found something, besides breakfast, that Gardner can do pretty well." With a tug of his cap to bring it down lower over his eyes, he slouched back and watched the stars streak by the cockpit viewing panes.

In the co-pilot seat, Sarah Patel stretched, popping one of her shoulders. "Ow. Mmm..._so_ full. I liked that lasagna he made too, actually."

Joker made a grunt of agreement. "Y'think he's Italian?"

"_Rupert Gardner?_ No. No I do not. He lacks...uh..."

"Charisma? Taste? Smoothness? Charm? Marriage-wrecking good looks?" Joker provided helpfully, his voice starting to sound sleepy.

The _Normandy's_ backup pilot considered her options. "Yes."

Jeff yawned broadly while wiping his eyes. "Not needed. I got those covered."

"Riiight, all of the above," Sarah snorted. "Hey, so, uh...are you going down to Illium? Didn't you stay on the ship, last time?"

He offered a nearly imperceivable shrug. "Eh, don't get me wrong, I like looking at an endless sea of asari as much as the next guy," he said, missing her slight frown. "_However_, I'm not a huge fan of limping around painfully, and waiting for someone to accidentally walk into me so I can break a rib or three."

"Aw, c'mon. We could rent a skycar. You'll get to dazzle us with your personal-craft piloting skills, and...heh, something to carry our shopping bags."

He cracked open one eye and regarded her. "Oh, I see. I get it. Don't I drive your asses around enough, already? 'Sides, who's 'we'?"

"Me, Kelly, Kasumi...Jack again, if she'll go, I guess. Kelly said the two of them had a pretty decent time, and Jack was...well, _relatively tame_, quote-unquote. Wish we could bring Gabby, but she'll be working on the ship with Tali 'n Ken..."

Joker cocked one eyebrow in disbelief. "You were trying to rope me into being the chauffeur for four women - or three women and _Jack_, to be more accurate - on a shopping trip? I'd rather be interrogated by Zaeed. With knives."

The dark-skinned woman cocked her head to the side. "You're not thinking of this in your normal horndog fashion, uh, sir. Four chicks - drinking and trying on clothes. You might see some side-boob, at the very least. Eh?"

"Did you see Jack the first week she was here? I saw side-boob, bottom-boob, top-boob..."

Sarah frowned, then stretched again while faking a yawn. "Ok, your loss. I'm going to go hit my bunk and go into a pasta-coma. My sleep pattern is messed up. Catch you later."

"Mmm hmm."

Her face glum, Sarah trudged down the neck of the _Normandy_ and through the CIC. As she rounded the hall, she nearly bumped into Kelly Chambers, who had a close call with dropping her datapad.

"Oh! Excuse me, Sarah. I was reading this..."

"S'ok. Hey," Sarah said in a low voice. "Let me just affirm something. When a guy is into you...he'll go out of his way to, you know, be around you. Do stuff with you, or stuff _around_ you..."

The Cerberus yeoman grinned. "Of course. If you suddenly notice that you've grown a new shadow, well..._you_ have an admirer."

"Yeah. I know, I just...ah, forget it." With a dejected shrug, Sarah resumed her original path and went down the hall.

"Sarah! Hey, wait! Are we still together for shore leave?"

* * *

The elevator doors closed, Jack's neck and shoulders hit the back wall, and she closed her eyes as she pressed her head back against the cool metal. In her hands she carefully balanced a tray laden with a covered dish, a glass of water, and utensils.

"Ffffuuuuuccck," she slowly whispered aloud.

_Forty-two people, maybe?_

She'd lost count. The dextro-aliens - of course - Samara, and a few others had all opted out of the pasta line for other choices. Nearly an hour standing next to Gardner, putting in the effort to be semi-normal - putting on a nice face so as to not cause more of a scene than was already inevitab...

"Miss Jack?" EDI's voice, suddenly breaking the silence, startled her enough that the water glass on her tray threatened to slosh over.

_Jesus!_ "Yeah?"

"You've not selected a destination for the lift."

Her eyes went to the panel, where the five choices available were all unlit and untouched.

_Shit. Great. Robot must think I'm a fucking idiot._

"Uh, right. Shepard's cabin."

"Of course."

Jack rolled her eyes. "Bringing his dinner like a good little bitch, I hear ya."

"Miss Jack?"

"Nevermind." _Shit, what is wrong with me? Relax! _The biotic rolled her head from side to side, stretching her neck. _Chill_._  
_

"I will open the door for you, when you arrive. Your hands are occupied."

"Yeah, thanks a bunch."

_bing._

In lieu of an omni-tool - she'd never had the credits nor connections to obtain a military-grade specimen designed for heavy-duty biotic use - Jack carried an old-fashioned communicator clipped to her belt, at the rear of her left hip. For the first time in several days, it had just chirped for her attention.

The biotic considered balancing the tray on one hand to check the comm, but decided against dropping the last serving of pasta all over the elevator floor. Her interest in explaining how that happened - while looking like a clumsy idiot - was decidedly low.

"Yeah, yeah, Shepard. I'm comin'. Keep your pants on," she muttered.

* * *

As promised, the doors to _the loft _- the nickname the Cerberus crew had attached to the Captain's cabin - swished open at her approach, and she stepped inside. The cabin was quiet, and the lower level that held the bed, armor and clothing locker, and his guest sitting area was at reduced lighting. Glancing to the side where his desk and computer terminal were, she raised one eyebrow at the ship models that were displayed above it.

_Huh. Never was in here with all the lights on, I guess. He builds models? Fuckin' nerd._

With a smirk of dark amusement, she continued her walk into the cabin, moving down to the second level and placing the tray on the small table that served his sitting area for guests. Dropping down into the L-shaped leather sofa, she looked about the room, frowned, and then listened. No sound from the washroom, at all.

Taking out her comm - still offering the occasional bloop as a reminder of her unanswered message - she activated the small holo-display to see what Shepard had-

_Oh._

[Joker S. - Hey. I was just busting your ass a little, you know, in the food line. We cool? You up for cards in a bit?]

_Huh._

[Jack - yeah, I was kinda pissed about the whole thing - not really you, y'know? its cool. i can dish it out, guess i need to take it...for once. whats the S mean? your last name isnt S...]

"Hey, EDI?"

"Yes, Miss Jack?"

"Shepard isn't even here, is he?"

"That is correct. Commander Shepard is in the shuttle bay."

The biotic convict rubbed her eyes with one hand. "And...you were going to tell me this _when?_"

"I did not have a scheduled time."

_-bing-_

[Joker S. has invited Kasumi G. to the message group]

[Joker S. - means Joker Stud]

_Well fuck. Of course._

[Kasumi G - What means Joker Stud? What did I miss?]

[Jack - nothing, trust me]

[Joker S. - Jack wanted to know what Joker S. meant - it means Stud.]

[Kasumi - Oh. Well, that's obvious.]

[Joker S. - I KNOW RIGHT?]

[Jack - fuck you both - turning this off]

[Kasumi G. - aww...]

[Joker S. - come baaaacck]

[You have left the message group]

_Fucking idiots. _Fighting to keep the smirk from her face, Jack stood up and left the cabin.

* * *

Even before the doors opened, she could hear him. The muted sounds of fists and knees impacting heavy leather, the exhalations of breath, the grunts of effort.

_thwack thwack thwack thwack!_

The doors opened, doubling the volume.

"Muah! Huah! Hnngh!"

His broad back to her, he was shirtless and wearing long, black synthetic shorts that went to his knees. A heavy chain ran down from a beam above them - designed to suspend a 3rd shuttle if one needed to be stored, out of the way - anchoring a heavy, leather striking bag that danced and swayed before him as he evidently tried to kill it dead.

Secretly, she'd watched him work out before - from the observation window of the hallway above - light and fast sparring with Thane, lifting weights with Jacob, stretching while trading jokes with Kasumi, and once - to her annoyance - doing a marathon of one-armed pushups while Miranda sat next to him, cross-legged, while questioning him and ticking items off on a datapad.

This was different. His strikes against the heavy bag - over-weighted, she'd heard Garrus mutter once, while he jabbed at it - had nothing to do with exercise. He was spending his aggression. It was a subtle difference, but Jack was uniquely qualified to recognize when someone was using anger as fuel.

Again and again he fired short, chopping punches - both high and low - elbows in, tight arcs - while keeping his head tucked in low and his back hunched. Close-range, serious, deadly fighting. On occasion, he'd seize the bag with one steadying hand and fire the opposite knee into it, like a half-assed Muay Thai clinch she'd seen in fighting videos.

Her eyes were glued to the center of his back, between his rippled, rounded shoulders - where the dancing, writhing interplay of his corded muscles under the thin, smooth, flawless skin of his torso was suddenly hypnotic. He was flushed with effort and dotted with sweat, and a single bead had broken loose from high on his back and snaked a trail down his spine.

The biotic had a sudden, primal urge to lick it from his skin, to taste it - to consume just a tiny part of the man. Absorb him, and make him part of her, forever.

Shifting in place, she found herself pressing her thighs together in sudden discomfort, and heat flowed out from her abdomen to pound its way through her body. Absently, she licked her lips.

Abruptly, he spun in place - she flinched and took a half-step back - and put a spinning backfist into the bag with a light _thwack_, as he aborted the move halfway through at the sudden sight of her.

Instantly, all the coiled energy left him, and he looked almost sheepish - like a person caught dancing when they thought they were alone. Reaching up with his fingerless fighting gloves, he plucked out miniature wireless headphones that had been nestled in his ears and offered a half-smile.

"Uh, hey Jack. Didn't know you were there," he huffed, bending double to catch his breath.

_S'ok, Shep, I was just watching the sweat run off of your muscles and skin and daydreaming about fucking you to death while making grunting animal noises, no big deal._

Jack cleared her throat. "Um. S'ok, Shep, I was...just...uh, I brought...you some food. To your cabin. The pasta n' stuff." _Oh, you've got those little side muscles next to your abs that...make that v-shape and go down into your shorts...and...you're looking right at me._

Her eyes - the ones that seemed unable to not betray her - came up to his again. "Should still be warm." _Nice._ _I sound like a fucking schoolgir-_

"Excuse me, Commander Shepard. You requested a thirty-minute reminder prior to the engineering briefing. Illium orbit is one hour following the scheduled time of the briefing."

Already breathing easier, he straightened. "Thank you, EDI," he said, loudly, addressing the room at large. "So," he continued, more quietly, "how did that go?"

Jack shifted on her feet again, breaking from his eyes and looking aimlessly around the room. "What, the serving thing? Went alright. I got through it. You still pissed at me? You were going at that bag," she pointed her chin at it as she spoke, "like it owed you money."

"No. Nothing to do with that." Shepard leaned over and picked up a white towel that was hanging over a simple folding chair, next to him. "Delivering a message - some data, actually - to Liara. From the Illusive Man. That worries me, because that usually means there is some sort of a game-within-a-game going on, and that just pisses me off. I'm worried about her."

"Mm."

"Don't. It used to be like that, yes. And now, it's not." Shepard swiped the towel over his head and face. "Do you think I'd jerk you around on this?"

After a moment, Jack sighed and crossed her arms. "I guess not. Never saw you not bein' straight with people."

"Thank you. Okay...back to today. Didn't threaten to kill anyone?"

She shrugged. "Joker, I guess."

"That doesn't count," Shepard replied instantly, and she saw a grin begin to show at one corner of his mouth.

Jack's full lips twisted into a smirk. "Figured. Nah, some of 'em busted my balls a little, poked some fun. Nothin' serious, and I woulda done the same thing in their place. It's all good."

"They want to like you, you know. Especially now. The Lorek mission made you something more than just the scary thing that hides in the basement." He offered a teasing grin as he stripped off his gloves and tossed them on a nearby bench.

Now that he was looking away, her eyes went back to him and played over his body, again. "Whatever, I don't care about that shit. Like me, or don't - all the same."

Walking to his locker, he opened it and took out an energy drink bottle, which he opened and sipped. "Really? Having a crew to hang out with, make fun of, and play cards with isn't better than being by yourself?"

The biotic shrugged and made a scoffing noise. "Still _way_ too much Cerberus going on around here. You think I'd just forget about that and start high-fiving everyone? But...yeah. Some of 'em are ok, I guess. Fuck you, _fine_. It's a little better than being stuck in a room by yourself for ten years, because I did _that_, too. Happy?"

His back still to her, he froze in place, and from the small amount of his face that she could see from her perspective, she saw him grimace. "Sorry. That was..."

Jack waved one hand dismissively. "Forget it."

"No." Wiping off his chest and neck, he dropped the towel and turned to her, stepping closer. "I appreciate that you're making the effort. Really. You stepped into a pit full of the people you hate the most, and you've held it together. And now, the bullshit little punishment I gave you - you sucked it up and did it. I'm, uh..."

"Surprised?" _Hey, the nutjob did something right, hoo-fucking-ray._

The captain rubbed the back of his neck, looking reluctant to elaborate. "Kind of...proud of you, I guess."

Despite herself, Jack felt her cheeks color. "Oh." _Oh?_

"Yeah. And, I...overreacted. Not with the actual punishment - we do that stuff all the time - but before that. The treadmill thing, especially..."

The biotic smirked and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug, again."You almost dropped me on my ass, but I'm pretty sure I'd have survived."

"Not the point. It was disrespectful. I got emotional...I took it personally, because it was _you._" He looked away from her, and seemed to be fighting himself over his own words. "This is why, in the Alliance, they have regs against this sort of thing," he added, more quietly.

Jack felt a shiver shoot up her spine at his words. "What sort of thing?" she managed to push past her suddenly-tightening throat.

Shepard stepped closer to her again, and she resisted the urge to step back. "Should we keep pretending it's nothing?" he asked quietly.

For a moment, his silver gaze locked silently into her own chocolate-brown one, and there was silence. Finally, she licked her lips nervously. "No. I'm...tired of being chickenshit about it..._this_...whatever. But...I don't know what to do about it. I hate-"

Shepard leaned closer, and suddenly both of his hands were at the sides of her neck, his fingertips teasing her short, soft, bushy hair at the back of her head. The smell of his perspiration and deodorant hit her, unlocking something primal deep inside. _Want._

Involuntarily, her eyes closed for a moment and the room seemed to shrink in around them. Without knowing she'd moved at all, one of her hands was resting on his forearm, and the other came to rest on his hip - at first on the material of his shorts, before moving to slide over the damp, hot skin just above.

After a moment, her eyelids fluttered and she opened them halfway. He was hovering just beyond touching distance, close enough to share breath, close enough that the heat radiating from him warmed her entire body.

"Jack," he murmured in a low, rough voice. "Can I kiss you?"

Blood roared in her ears and she could barely hear him.

But, her eyes were on his mouth as he spoke, and-

The tip of the convict's tongue appeared, moistening her painted lips. Looking up, her large, brown eyes danced in his - moving from one to the other, searching him. Finally, her mouth moved and silently framed a single word.

_Yeah._

His lips descended onto hers, and her mind detonated.

Floating.

Electric.

Distant.

After a moment, disbelief turned to belief, and she returned to herself - able to think, and to feel.

His lips moved gently and achingly slowly over her own. Not insistent, but exploring. Feeling out what she was comfortable with and what she wanted. After entire seconds of paralysis, she realized she'd been frozen in place - not even breathing - and mentally kicked herself to _do something_.

Jarred out of inactivity, she moved to returning the kiss twofold. Exploring him in return, paying individual attention to both his upper and bottom lip - using every molecule of what little restraint she had ever possessed to not be demanding and to just _take_.

Somewhere, she was aware she had never kissed another living being like this. Her life's collection of _this_ consisted of nothing at all, and her sexual encounters all had several things in common - short, violent, and - when possible - quickly forgotten.

Somewhere, she found the solidity in her mind to be able to appeal to herself to _save this moment_ and keep it forever, locked away, perfect and safe.

And, somewhere, she found the thought that nothing this good would ever happen for her again - and her eyes began to sting. She returned her full attention to his mouth and suppressed the notion as best she could.

_Slow. Go slow. Just this once. Don't ruin this._

Her mouth opened wider and her tongue reached for his, at first tracing the curve of his upper lip as if requesting permission - and then they were caressing, teasing, and tasting each other. The feeling of leaving her body returned - gravity fell away, along with the awareness of the solid floor beneath her.

Jack felt him smile against her lips, and as her eyes opened again to slits, suddenly she was aware of what she was doing. The beginnings of biotic light crept over her skin, the blue glow that emitted from her - the reflection sparkled in his eyes as he broke from her with a quiet gasp.

Breathing and silence.

Unblinking eyes locked with each other - hers wide and guileless, his crinkled with amusement.

"That tingles," he finally said, quietly, and with a small smile that melted her.

Jack licked her lips again, and steadied herself with a deep breath, and the subtle glow faded. "I...didn't know I was doing that."

"I liked your red shorts." His voice was quiet and teasing, but the words didn't make any sense.

"Wha?" His face, and lips, were so close she had trouble focusing on anything else.

"Treadmill," he clarified quietly.

Jack blinked. "Oh. Borrowed 'em from Kelly. Had to cinch 'em tight, she has a way better ass 'n me." S_hut the fuck up keep kissing me, idiot._

"Oh, is it nice? Never noticed."

She squinted at him dubiously. "'Course you didn't."

His thumb moved to the front of her face, and the tip of it traced a newly-discovered scar, a tiny one that split the corner of her upper lip. Dipping his head again, he placed a small, chaste kiss upon it - pulling back just as she turned into him, seeking more.

Finding him missing, she opened her eyes again and growled quietly. The hand that had been resting on his forearm snaked up and seized the back of his neck, pulling him-

"Commander Shepard, twenty minutes."

Squeezing his eyes closed in frustration, he straightened his posture - his height taking him up and away from her, and her hand slipped away.

"I...have to..."

Jack blinked twice as she nodded dully. "Right. Yeah. Stuff to do."

"Right. I...should...go have the food you brought up. Quickly. Take a shower. Very quickly."

"Yeah. You...uh..." _Smell like sex, look like sex, taste like sex... _"Are...pretty sweaty." _What? What the fuck?_

Shepard gave a laugh hardly louder than a breath. "Yeah, well, _you_ smell like tomatoes, basil, and garlic. No complaints, by the way. I just had to remember to kiss you, and not eat..." Abruptly, he cut himself off and cringed, almost comically. "Anyway, not how I imagined our first real kiss."

He made to move past her to the elevator, but her hand reached out to catch his arm, stopping him in place.

"You've been imagining it?" she asked quietly, her eyes fixing him in place.

He colored. "_This_ is one of those times when...the less I say, the better." He grinned again, freed himself gently but hastily, and the elevator doors took him away. From the quick view of his shorts she caught just as the doors closed, she hoped the shower was a cold one.

Maybe likewise for herself. Somewhere south of her abdomen, she felt ready to ignite.

_Damn. Dammit._

After a moment of staring at the doors, she took a handful of her own shirt - discovering two small splashes of crusted red sauce as she did so - and pulled it up to her nose, giving a sniff.

Tomatoes, basil, and garlic.

"Shit."

* * *

Silent in the howling, high-altitude wind that washed over him, he watched and waited. Displaying the patience and stoicism his race was known for, Dros peered through the scope from behind his basic, yet effective blind, resting the center of the rifle's weight on a heavy bean-bag he always brought along for planned distance-shots. Slightly over one kilometer away, the floor-to-ceiling windows of Liara T'Soni's exclusive primary residence filled his view.

Perched on top of a seventy-three story luxury residential building, he had pre-calculated his minute-of-angle based on Illium's precise amount of gravity, the slightly different atmospheric resistance at the relative altitudes of source and target, an a VI that did fuzzy-logic best guesses of current windage. With the rapid three-shot burst of the M-29 Incisor, all three rounds would hit an area no larger than what could be covered by a large coin.

"Getting sick of this wind blowing the grit into my eyes," groused Enzod from behind him, his comm headset repeating the sound a millisecond later and creating a stereo effect. The dour yet admirably even-tempered batarian had been his virtual sidekick for nearly three years, and the two of them made a decent pairing - largely due to compatible natures and complementary skills. One sullen and occasionally bitingly gruff, the other casually quiet. One covered in blades and brandishing a shotgun, the other rarely within unaided visual range of his target.

Together they had served The Broker admirably on dozens of worlds.

"Quit griping. At least you're free to move around a little," the turian replied mildly, audible only in the radio.

The batarian huffed in annoyance. "Five hours exposed up h-"

"Shhh. Movement."

Six kilometers away, and likewise keeping watch, Tela Vasir lounged in the empty office space that had been rented just for this purpose - overwatch. Reclining in an expensive, leather office chair, her armored boots were propped up on a second one. In her lap was a bowl of fruit that she absently nibbled on, to pass the time. On occasion, she raised a small monocular to her eye and peered through her window, over to Liara's office, the unlisted and unadorned headquarters of _T'Soni InfoNET _- known only to her clients as a reliable, but fairly unremarkable information broker, one of dozens in Nos Astra.

Tela Vasir noted with amusement that _formed for_ _waging deadly war with the Shadow Broker_ wasn't mentioned on her company extranet site, under "corporate profile".

"_Vasir"_

The asari Spectre sat up, and pressed the tiny wireless unit nestled in her ear-opening to fit a bit more snugly. "Report, Dros."

"_T'Soni just arrived at her residence. Watching her through my scope, unpacking a bag."_

"Positive ID?"

"_Have my reference image right here. It's her. Stupid eyebrow markings and everything."_

Vasir felt a tingle of excitement. A fat deposit about to hit her account always did that.

"Drop her," she growled.

Despite the several kilometers of distance between them, she found herself listening intently. Ten seconds passed. Fifteen.

"_Target down. First burst took the window, second burst center of body mass. Rapidly expanding pool of blood, no movement._

_That's a kill."_


	46. One Last Sunset - 2 of 4

_**(A/N - thanks to Bebus for beta-reading, and JacksAreWild for assisting me with writing the shuttle cockpit conversation.)**_

* * *

Jack pressed herself into the corner between the sliding doors of the crew deck's women's restroom, and starboard observation. A wadded-up bundle of clothing was jammed under one arm. Bending low, she spoke quietly over the small protrusion coming out of the brushed alloy wall.

"Um. Hey, robot girl? EDI?"

Despite knowing "she" was about to appear, EDI's holographic projection popped up so close that Jack instinctively leaned back.

"Hello, Miss Jack. May I assist?" The AI asked, brightly.

The biotic cast a furtive eye up the hallway, which suddenly felt far too well-lit and exposed to crew traffic. "_Not so loud._ Listen, I was gonna take a shower," she hissed in a near-whisper.

The blue, glowing orb blinked before responding, at a noticeably lower volume.

"I see," she replied with surprising seriousness. "Is there an issue with the facilities? I have just reviewed both current sensors, and recent maintenance logs and cannot find a report of failu-"

Jack's face twisted in frustration. "No! I mean...I don't usually...do this during, y'know, _day_ hours. Can I have...privacy mode or whatever?"

EDI's orb actually brightened, as if pleased to reach understanding. "Ah! Yes. Privacy mode may be interrupted by a crew member requesting entrance, which you may choose to allow or disallow at your discretion. Privacy mode may be _overridden_ by any _Normandy SR-2_ officer - namely, Executive Officer Miranda Lawson, Chief Medical Officer Dr. Chakwas, Senior Helmsman Jeff Moreau, Armory Chief and Acting Security Officer Jacob Taylor, recent clearance addition Gunnery Officer and Second Officer Garrus Vakarian, and of course, Commander Shep-"

The convict waved her hand impatiently at the pulsing blue projection. "Christ, would you just _shut up_? I didn't ask for the fuckin' crew manifesto! Ok, fine, privacy mode...do that. And if I find your buddy Joker in there with me, I'm gonna breach the door to your brain room and see how you like bein' in six thousand pieces, you hear me?"

Again, the blue orb blinked. "I believe I understand. Please enjoy your solitude."

Untouched, the washroom door beeped and slid open invitingly.

* * *

From the primary cockpit seat, the pilot silently ran over systems procedures, dutifully checking off items on her datapad. From over Sarah's shoulder, an orange-topped head leaned in from the hatch to the crew bay.

Kelly cleared her throat. "Sooo, we're _sure_ this thing is perfectly safe, right?"

The dark-skinned woman rolled her eyes, before turning to face the yeoman. "_Yes_, Kelly. First, there is a reason that Cerberus, the Alliance, law enforcement branches, government services, and various merc groups all use the UT-47 Kodiak. It's not because it's the cheapest option - because it's not. It's just really, _really_ damned reliable. Secondly, of all the merc groups, Eclipse is the most tech-heavy and they _generally_ know their shit. Garrus and Gabby inspected both shuttles - with Tali's supervision, of course - and they passed both the mechanical and electronic inspection. So, _yes_, this thing is _perfectly safe_. I'll just fly it down, drop everyone off, and we'll have that shop just do some maintenance work to replace a few parts and re-do the paint scheme to _relatively-anonymous white_, quote-unquote. Everything is _fine_."

Kelly's bright green eyes blinked once. "I was expecting you to say something like 'Yes, Kelly, it's safe!' Um. Is...something wrong?"

Sarah took a deep breath, faced the front and slumped back in her chair. "Is 'I don't really want to talk about it' an acceptable answer?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Kelly replied with an understanding nod.

Sarah's shoulders visibly relaxed a little. "Thank you."

There was a long pause.

"Buuuuut _then_ I'll just pester you endlessly until you either kill yourself _or_ you crack and spill it - and then I help you out with the problem, and _then_ everyone feels better and there are happy rainbows all over the place. So do you wanna just cut to the end of the process right now and save time?"

Sarah sighed again, and rubbed her eyes.

Kasumi's head seemingly materialized beside Kelly's shoulder, leaning into the cockpit with a wide grin. "What's up? What are we talking about?"

"Nothing!" Sarah immediately replied. "We're not. Talking. About things. There are no things."

All three women silently turned and faced the rear as Shepard entered the crew bay and dropped a duffel bag into a cargo bin. Turning to face them momentarily, he raised an eyebrow and exchanged looks with, in turn, all three of them - who returned only blank stares.

After a few seconds of pin-dropping silence, the _Normandy_ captain held his palms up in surrender and carefully backed out of the shuttle the same way he'd entered.

"_Anyway_. Sarah was just about to explain why she's in a bad mood, and I was going to help," Kelly amended, more quietly than before.

Sarah swiveled around in her chair, and fixed the redhead with a stare from her dark coffee eyes. "_No_, I was not. Also, I hate you."

Kasumi's lips pursed into an exaggerated _O_ shape, before turning to face Kelly. "Oh, hey, Kelly...did you hear the latest? Sarah hates you."

Now it was the Cerberus yeoman who rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as if settling in for a long debate. "She does _not_. Anyway, we can do this _now_ - or down on Illium over glasses of wine and with Jack listening in and making gagging noises."

One of Sarah's eyebrows rose. "I thought you liked Jack."

"Oh, I do - but do you _really_ want her in on your confessional, soul-baring girl-talk? She's not the gentle, helpful, _loyal"_-Kelly waggled a finger-point between herself and Kasumi, who nodded enthusiastically in agreement-"souls that we are."

Sarah fixed them both with a level stare before closing her eyes in seeming exhaustion. "Fine. Come in. Close the hatch."

Kasumi raised both hands in fists of victory. "Yaaaaaaay," she cheered quietly. "Where _is_ our little biotic fireball, anyway?"

* * *

The washroom doors had slid closed behind the biotic, and had made a declarative _chirp _when the lock engaged. The bundle of clothes under her arm had quickly hit the floor, and from there to the wide shower stall she'd left a trail of black clothing, boots, and underwear.

The side of Jack's face was now pressed against the metal wall of the shower, where she braced herself with one hand and forearm while her slender legs were widely spread - one knee bent, the foot arched up on toes - the tension of the pose making one calf muscle quiver.

The young biotic's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and from either side of her, jets of water played over the stripes and patterns of her body. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip as her free hand hand busied itself between her thighs, and she gasped and jerked in place as she urgently worked towards the climax she desperately needed.

The lithe convict could distantly hear her own breathing, now echoing against the metal walls above the sound of the water, the sound of harsh panting that grew ever faster. Firmly and insistently she stroked herself, her fingers buried in the hot folds of her own slippery flesh while a montage of scenarios and images ran through her mind, like the flipped pages of a catalogue. Fantasies were conjured, used, and discarded - anything to get her higher and closer.

Shepard, behind her and grasping at her hips while he buried himself deeply inside of her, over and over. She imagined his iron grip leaving marks on whatever unmarked flesh it would touch, leaving red between the black - reminding her for days after exactly how he'd taken from her what he'd needed, which giving her precisely the same.

Shepard, above her, his hands holding hers, his forearms on top of hers, pinning her down. Her arching up for him, trying to seize his lips with hers - but he kept moving just out of reach with that fucking infuriating grin of his - the whole time thudding her body into the bed as he drove relentlessly between her legs.

Shepard, under her while she finally molested his lips with hers, her palms resting on the slabs of muscle that covered his chest, swallowing his groans as he arched up to meet her as she pistoned up and down on the hard staff that would penetrate-

"All hands, your attention. Please be reminded that the first shuttle to Illium departs in five minutes. Shuttle to Illium, five minutes. Thank you."

EDI's muffled voice reached through the water just well enough for her to decipher, even from the hallway.

Her eyes cracked open, the thick black lashes parting to reveal the biotic glow that lit up the mist all around her - and she blinked as she realized that hundreds of globules of water, as well as her bottle of shower-gel, were suspended all around her - gently floating in a small gravity-free well.

_Cerberus AI. Programmed to screw me over every time I have a chance to get my fucking rocks o-_

_Wait, five minutes? Shit!_

"Motherfuck!" The spell hopelessly broken, she angrily smacked the shower gel right out of the air as her biotic glow faded. The bottle bounced violently around the confines of the stall, hitting three sides and splattering green goo on the walls. As it clattered to the floor, so did the suspended water spheres as they abruptly resumed obeying the _Normandy's_ artificial gravity - hitting the floor with a wet _slap_.

Closing her eyes again, she stood in the center of the still-running water jets, allowing the cool water to soothe her heated skin for an entire twenty precious seconds, even as she reflected on her second unexpected biotic output of the day. Normally, _that_ only happened during intensely powerful dreaming - usually nightmares - and, like now, in times of rare self-pleasure, and only when she started getting _really_ close. Today, Shepard had flared her biotics just by _kissing her_.

_Shepard. Kissed me. He started it. He wanted me._

Since then, she'd not been able to spend a single minute thinking of anything else. Slapping a hand on the lever to kill the water flow, Jack hopped out of the shower on unsteady legs and hurriedly dried herself in brisk, irritable motions, before angrily throwing on her spare clothing in a frenzy of activity.

_Fucking EDI. Fucking stupid fucking robot._

* * *

"You asked Joker out? And Joker turned you down? _Joker?_"

Sarah sighed and looked pained. "I didn't _exactly_ ask him out. And, Kas...you make him sound like a little troll who should take whatever he can get."

The thief waved both of her hands in front of herself. "No, no! I didn't really mean it like _that_. He's cute and all. He's just not very...social...and...is kind of scruffy, y'know, endearingly so...and is always in the same place and doesn't go out much..." She paused, her painted bottom lip pushing out as she rolled her thoughts around in examination. "Okay, so I kind of _did_ mean he's a little troll, but in a nice way!" Sarah met her long description with a measured, dead-faced stare, and Kasumi cringed. "I'll shut up now."

In the limited seating of the shuttle cockpit, Kelly nodded thoughtfully from the co-pilot seat under the diminutive Kasumi, who was perched on her lap like a child who was visiting Santa. "I get the attraction."

"You do?" both Sarah and Kasumi said in unison, turning to face her.

"Sure," the redhead continued with a small shrug. "Talent is hot. Jeff only really has one professional skill that anyone knows of, but he's a top one-percenter in that skill. If the Alliance has a better pilot stashed away somewhere, well, we don't know about him."

"He's amazing," Sarah admitted. "I try to watch and learn, but it's like seeing a beautiful painting and going, 'yeah, I know what a canvas and brushes are.' It's not enough, you know? I'm a pretty good pilot, really! My scores were very good...felt pretty good about myself - until I watched him turn off EDI's correction inputs and go manual..." the woman trailed off, shaking her head. "Well, he's also taught me a lot, so I can't complain."

"Well," Kelly began, "being the very, very best pilot he can be is _incredibly_ important to him - instructor notes from the Alliance academy indicated that if another student got anywhere close to him in a certain skill, he'd pull all-nighters working himself into a froth to perfect whatever _thing_ it was. He's a _little_ competitive. Anyway, his official graduating scores are the stuff of fiction and video-game characters," she finished with a shrug. "Well, that's all related to things he'd freely talk about at the mess table. I can't say much else. Sometimes I _do_ try to be professional, just for variety."

"_Any_way," Sarah continued, "Joker didn't _exactly_ shoot me down. He's just not taking the hint. _Hints, _plural. I'm using every body-language trick I know of, and I'm being inviting enough I'm starting to creep myself out. I mean, do I have to whip my shirt off?"

"Did you even _try_ whipping your shirt o-" Kasumi began.

"I'm serious! I kind of don't want to be really, really blunt. What do I have to do? Say '_You. Me. We fuck now_.'?" Sarah added with a simulated caveman voice, thrusting out her chin.

"Did you even _try_ saying '_You. Me. We f_-'" Kasumi tried again.

"Again, this makes sense to me," Kelly said, edging in. "Now, I'm going to veer into a certain degree of supposition here, but hang with me for this - his adolescent years were spent on crutches, with bones made of your grandmothers prized vase. Remember high school? Now do it _on crutches_, and be _that_ kid. Dealing with teenage girls."

"Oh, man," Sarah mumbled. "We were like animals. Cliquey, judgemental animals."

Kasumi raised one hand. "I didn't go to high school, but still. Thank you very much, I feel like a dirtbag now. And no, don't ask."

"So," Sarah mused, "He doesn't see it. He thinks I'm just being friendly because that's all he ever got. The occasional girl who was polite."

Kasumi kept her hand up. "Sad now, thank you. Continuing this current roll I'm on, where I'm a horrible person - do you...think he's a virgin?"

"Not touching this one," Kelly said with a firm shake of her head. "Uh, so to speak."

"Maybe he just doesn't like black chicks!" Kasumi added.

Stares.

"I'm kidding! _Jeez_. I mean...I'm sure there are guys out there who aren't into Japanese girls," she said, straight-faced. "Hah, I'm just foolin', of course! That would need to be a bizarre alternate dimension where the threads of reality and good sense were warped _so_ severely that-"

"Oh, I think he likes her just fine in that regard," Kelly cut in. "Saw him checking out your butt a few times when you left the mess table," she added with a leering grin.

Sarah bowed her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Okay. I'm just ashamed by how I'm kinda happy about that. Also, I suddenly have an urge to to go the gym and get a few kilometers in on the treadmill."

"'Course he checked out her butt," Kasumi said, with a toothy grin. "Just look at that work of art! Hell, I'd steal it if I coul..._wait_," she added, looking thoughtful. "Did he check out_ my_ butt?"

"Not that I _saw_," admitted the Cerberus yeoman.

"Well, what the f-"

A rapping of knuckles on the other side of the cockpit hatch silenced her. After fixing Kasumi with a _be quiet_ look, Sarah swiveled and cast open the door. Commander Shepard's face looked back in at them, leaning in and offering an amused smirk.

"Sorry to break up the spontaneous sorority party up here, but it's time to go. I'll go out and grab my things if you're ready, Sarah."

"Aye, sir. We'll hide the wine glasses and clean up from the pillow fight."

Shepard nodded with narrowed eyes and feigned severity as he slowly backed out again. "See that you do."

* * *

Jogging up the shuttle ramp, Jack ducked as she entered the door. Hurriedly, she tossed her small backpack under a bench - where it landed with a _clank_ next to Garrus' armored feet.

She saw the turian briefly look her up and down, taking in her hair - still spiked with wetness - and her overall condition which could be charitably described as _damp_. "Glad you could make it," he drawled. "How did you find a rainstorm indoors?"

The convict scowled in return. "Fu-"

"Hey, Jack," came a familiar, deep voice from just behind her ear.

Shepard and Thane had entered the shuttle, just behind her. Thane flowed easily around them both, moving ahead and sitting in between Garrus and Kasumi. As Shepard moved to step around her, angling the heavy duffel bag on his shoulder safely away from her, his hand momentarily rested on her bare lower back, brushing lightly across her still-moist skin. She stiffened in place as she felt his fingertips ghost over the ridge of the scar that ran down her spine, just above the belt of her low-riding fatigue pants, and traced over beginning of the swell of her backside.

Just as quickly as the touch started, he was past her - nodding at Garrus, and taking a seat up front, opposite the main hatch and closest to the cockpit hatch, and just ahead of Kasumi. Jack's eyes narrowed as she watched him, but he very deliberately didn't look back at her. After a moment of standing in place, the biotic tossed herself down onto the bench next to Garrus, and irritably strapped herself in.

Leaning back, she folded her arms over herself with a huff of irritation, followed by tightly crossing her long, gangly legs, bouncing her booted foot with restless energy. After a few seconds, she shifted in her seat and uncrossed and reversed her legs.

_Fucking EDI. Fuck you too, Shepard._

The turian's left mandible twitched as he watched her fidget. "You alright?"

"Why the fuck would I not be alright? 'Course I'm alright," she snapped.

Garrus nudged her slender black backpack that was on the floor under them, with his armored heel. Again, there was a quiet _clunk_. "Relax. Did you bring your shotgun along for a shopping trip with the girls?" His flanged voice transmitted his amusement loud and clear.

The biotic scoffed. "Pffft. Fuck yeah. Last time we were on this slimy fake-nice planet, dumbass almost got himself killed when he wandered off."

The turian nodded. "Heh, can't fault your reasoning. Don't worry about it, though. This time Thane and I will be shadowing him constantly." The turian punctuated his statement by gesturing at his folded Mantis rifle, which was peeking up over his shoulder.

"Hope he doesn't go to a washroom, because _that_ will get weird in a hurry. We'll have to do that 'rock, paper, scissors' thing that humans do, to see who goes with him. And _that's_ no good, because when I do either scissors or paper,"-he flicked out his two-fingered hand with a chopping motion-"it looks the same."

Jack leaned her head back and lightly thumped her head into the shuttle wall, suddenly fighting back a snort of laughter. She quickly turned her head to conceal her grin, but Garrus nudged her with his elbow.

"Got you," he murmured, sounding incredibly pleased with himself.

"Asshole," she muttered in reply.

* * *

Shepard had barely settled in his spot on the bench when Kasumi lightly elbowed him in the ribs. "I saw what you did there, playah," she murmured. "You sure it's safe to tease our gravity-distortion bomb like that? Are you two doing stuff like that now? Did I miss something? Who else kno-"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Kas," Shepard replied lightly, reaching under himself and shoving the heavy, barely-fitting duffel under his seat. Finishing that, he lightly smacked the hatch door twice, alerting Sarah and Kelly - her guest in the co-pilot seat - that they were ready for departure.

The thief's hood was pulled low enough that only the sparkle of her invisible eyes could be seen. "I'm just sayin' that if you grabbed _my _butt like that, well, I'd like some dinner first. Or, _after_ is fine, also. Dinner should be _involved, _is what I'm saying. I'm metaphorically _and_ literally very flexible," she whispered.

The shuttle shivered as the engines hummed to life. The _Normandy_ captain turned his head as little as possible, and gave her a tolerant look from the corners of his eyes. At her expectant grin, Shepard sighed deeply, as if greatly pained. "That...wasn't her butt. Lower back region. Mostly. Perfectly harmless."

White teeth blossomed in the center of the small asian's smile. "Actually, from this angle I wasn't _sure_ that you had touched her at all, so thanks for confirming that," she said, leaning close. As Shepard groaned quietly and let his head fall back to the hull behind him, she continued. "Secondly, the look on her face was far from _perfectly harmless_. We almost had 'sexy times' on our hands. Or 'physical assault with intent to harm'. With _her_ I expect they're much the same."

All of the passengers jostled in their restraints as the shuttle lifted from the bay floor, and passed through the field barrier into open space.

Shepard closed his eyes. "Kas?" he said quietly.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Keep it quiet, ok? And...don't tease her too much about it. I want her to feel good about something. For once."

His eyes still closed, he couldn't see her, but she gently bumped her shoulder into his arm. "Shep?"

"Mm?"

His hand was resting on the bench, hidden between his thigh and hers. Kasumi reached down, gathered it into her own, and squeezed. "You're sweet."

* * *

Shepard, Thane, and Garrus disembarked, and Shepard shielded his eyes as he watched their _Eclipse_-painted shuttle rise up into the purple-blue morning sky. Garrus gave him a light punch on the back of his armored shoulder - he'd changed into a rust-orange alternate hardsuit he kept, the N7 badge on his chest covered by a strip of black tape, and only the red-and-white stripes running down his right arm providing an outward clue to his identity - and spoke quietly. "You're worried about something, Captain Disguise." It was not a question.

Shepard checked the heatsink in his heavily-modded Carnifex handgun for the third time in the last hour. "I have one of those bad feelings. Can't put my finger on exactly why."

He caught the turian's eye in time to see him nod. "We'll be sharp, then. Learned a long time ago to not ignore _that_ little voice." The turian nodded at Shepard's heavy handgun. "So you keep _Big Thunder_ handy."

Shepard nodded in return, slapped the heatsink back into place, and returned the bulky handgun to the small of his back.

"Let's go see Liara and get this over with."

* * *

Sarah Patel, squinting down at her datapad, was on item seventeen of forty-three, confirming the pricing and availability of parts and maintenance items for the shuttle they had piloted with the bored-looking asari at the front desk. "Ok, so, obviously...the paint is being removed and replaced-"

"Exciting basic white, yeah, with just a hint of black and gold detail. Wanna just call it 'Unofficial Cerberus' and get it over with? I wasn't born yesterday, kid," the cobalt-colored alien replied, drily.

Sarah looked up and quirked an eyebrow. "If your business is doing _so_ well that your management suggests we take this job elsewhere..."

The asari waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah yeah, let's keep going."

"C'mon Sarah!" chirped Kelly from the lobby. "I'm dangerously sober over here, and Jack's hungry!" The Cerberus yeoman was again in her shore leave "uniform" of a puffy blouse, strappy heels, and a black miniskirt that was both very short and exceedingly tight. Two other asari customers who were waiting for their vehicles to be serviced were clearly eying her long, pale legs with appreciation.

Sarah turned and looked back at her with incredulity. "We had dinner, like, two hours ago!"

The redhead shrugged. "It's _Jack_."

* * *

The four human women stood in a semi-circle outside of a crowded outdoor asari cafe', watching Jack slurp seafood noodles from a disposable paper carton, eagerly shoveling the food in with a plastic fork.

"_Damn_, gotta admit - I love the noodles the squids-" An elbow and reproaching look from Kasumi had the convict rolling her eyes. "The _asari_ make, fine," she amended. "Anyway, I dunno even what type of fish is in this, and I don't care. It's awesome."

"Oh, here," Kelly said, holding out a credit chip. "I never gave you this. This is your share from what Kasumi ruthlessly looted from the _Eclipse_ base. Was going to hand it to you earlier, but you were busy scooping spaghetti onto my plate."

The lanky biotic scowled around the noodles in her mouth, and the hand holding her fork raised a middle finger in Kelly's direction - but she pushed out one hip towards the redhead, who obediently tucked the chip into her pocket.

"Alright," stated Kasumi with a clap of her hands. "Shopping list time."

"Jogging clothes 'n stuff," mumbled Jack, taking a fresh forkful.

Kasumi cocked her head to one side. "Wassup with you working out all the time, suddenly?"

The convict wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. "Samara has been ridin' my ass about building up cardio. _Blah-blah_ _foundation for sustained biotic usage_ and that crap. I didn't give much of a shit until she said something about _'kills per hour ratio over a sustained fight'_ - _that _got my attention. Killing more assholes per hour? Sign me the fuck up."

The thief nodded. "Ah, right. Well, that's cute. Or...blood-curdling."

Kelly activated her omni-tool and tapped an entry into it. "And, between _that_ and your biotic drills, I'm supposed to remind you to eat every three hours if you don't suggest it first. Shepard's orders."

Jack responded by sarcastically wiggling her food carton to indicate that she was already taking care of it.

"Full meals every three hours? Maybe _I_ should get biotic lessons and a cardio program," Sarah remarked wistfully.

"Item two," Kasumi continued. "Handcuffs!" she finished cheerfully, in perfect unison with Kelly.

Jack choked on a noodle she had half-swallowed, and coughed violently while doubling over. "What...the _fuck?!_" she managed.

"We gave a gag gift to Ashley Williams when she left the _Normandy_. Now we have to replace 'em before it's noticed that they're missing."

Recovered, Jack wiped her face again, and took another huge mouthful of noodles. "Where'd you even find handcuffs on the ship, anyway?" she mumbled.

"Garrus' bedroom."

"Hhrkkk!"

* * *

"I don't like this. At all," Garus muttered from the opposite side of the locked outer layer of the security door, perhaps unnecessarily. Shepard and Garrus were standing at the main business entrance of _T'Soni InfoNet_.

Which seemed abandoned.

During business hours.

Shepard activated his omni-tool and recalled his last message from Liara.

_-Shepard,_

_-I am on Illium, yes. When you arrive, visit my office and Nyxeris will see to your welcome, if I am not immediately available._

_-Take care._

_-Liara_

All communications he had sent since receiving this had met with the same fate: _message cached, undeliverable at this time._

_Hmm._

_"Take care."_

_She rarely uses human idioms that do not make literal sense - she finds them annoying or confusing. Is this one she picked up? Or is it an instructi-_

"Shepard." Garrus looked half-ready to jump out of his skin at the sudden appearance of Thane, who seemed to materialize right next to them from out of the decorative shrubs of the office complex grounds. Shepard's enhanced hearing had given him _just_ enough warning so that he had not been startled into pulling a gun on the drell assassin. Distressingly, he had been alerted to Krios' presence by the sound of his labored breathing.

"Thane," Garrus began, with exaggerated patience. "Please don't sneak up on me when I'm armed, unless you're in the mood to eat armor-piercing rifle ammunition."

"Apologies, Garrus," the drell buzzed. He took two deep breaths before continuing. "Shepard, I have examined every entrance, both intended and otherwise. No sign of forced entry. I briefly gained access via a ventilation duct. I was unable to cover the entire interior without triggering alarms, but there is - again - no sign of a struggle in the rooms I was able to view, nor unusual odors such as fire damage or..."-he hesitated-"excuse me, organic decomposition. I do believe this office is truly empty at this time."

"We have a residential location for her?" Garrus wondered aloud.

* * *

"Wow. That is a _lot_ of dildos," Sarah remarked, somewhere between wonder and alarm. The three women were standing in an asari _adult entertainment_ store, basking in the view of an entire wall of phallic instruments.

"This offers a penetrating insight into asari bedroom practices," added Kasumi, almost thoughtfully.

Kelly shrugged. "Odd, huh? I mean, given their biological history."

Sarah squinted at one particular example, turning her head to the side to read the multilingual packaging. "Do they, y'know, even like...that? I mean, the physical sensation?"

Kasumi jerked a thumb in the direction of the Cerberus yeoman. "I'll let Kelly field this one."

Sarah's eyes widened slightly. "You've...?"

"Heh, well," the redhead began with a fond smile. "I can certainly attest that a couple of fingers were...greatly appreciated..." her voice trailed off, as if relishing the memory. Kasumi just shrugged helplessly.

Sarah looked in both directions before leaning closer. "And...did you do a meld? I mean...is it true that, y'know, you end up feeling what she feels? So that when...you're, you know...you can feel...that...also? At the same time? So you're like...kind of...doing that to yourself...?"

As Sarah stumbled through the question, Kasumi slipped behind her, and, while peering over her shoulder, started lewdly using her fingers and making orgasm faces to illustrate and mime the details of the question. Kelly clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from bursting into giggles in the middle of the quiet store, while several other silent customers milled about.

Sarah turned and looked at Kasumi, who, hands now at her sides, shrugged in return as if to say _I don't know what her issue is_.

"Yes!" the redhead finally managed to gasp out. "All true. And...yeah, it's as awesome as it sounds."

"What's awesome?" Jack asked, strolling up casually, one hand in her pocket, the other carrying a stuffed shopping bag with an athletic store brand on the side. "You guys buy cuffs yet?"

Kelly rolled her eyes and glared at Kasumi. "No, for _some_ reason asari sex-stores don't carry high-alloy C-Sec police-grade regulation handcuffs."

The thief shrugged, completely unapologetic. "Hey, it gave us an excuse to come in here."

"_Any_way, I thought you wanted to wait outside?" Kelly questioned.

The biotic shrugged. "I did. Was gettin' a lot of weird looks out there, so I just said 'fuck it.' Found that the one thing creepier 'n wandering around inside of a sex-toy store is pacing back and forth _outside_ of one."

"Says the woman who walked around wearing leather straps for a shirt," Kasumi narrated helpfully.

"Hey, that thing was a retention harness to attach me to the inside of a fuckin' cryo tube. I only kept it for a bit because it freaked people out. Speaking of which...I see shirts with dirty pics on 'em," the convict added, before wandering off on her own.

"Fifty creds that she ends up buying a spiked collar _and_ a studded leather bra, and clomps around the _Normandy_ using them as day-wear," Kasumi offered.

"Nope." "No deal." Kelly and Sarah responded in near-unison.

The thief crossed her arms in mock disappointment. "Fine. Go back to looking at your turian dildos."

Sarah tilted her head again, and squinted. "That's...turian? Oh. _Oh_."

Kelly leaned in close to her, so Sarah could look down her own pointed finger. "You can tell by those little ridges right...there."

"Why do you _know_ that? Wait, why did you _both_ know that?"

"I read stuff," the thief replied with a shrug.

"I...yeah. Read. Things. Also?" Kelly agreed lamely, and Sarah raised her brow at her, skeptically.

Gesturing to the far end of the display wall, Kasumi glanced at Kelly for an instant before speaking. "Not what you were after, Sarah? The _Former_ _Alliance Pilot_ model is down at the other end."

Sarah crossed her arms as Kelly burst out laughing, this time unsuccessful in stifling herself. "Oh, shut up, both of you."

* * *

The turian guard at the security desk, expecting the asari, stood and nodded as she approached.

"Vasir. As instructed, I've used the fire code override and opened T'Soni's door for you. I've circulated the announcement that due to a reported criminal that may be on the premises, all residents should remain locked inside for the next thirty minutes, minimum, while authorities check the building."

The asari Spectre hardly spared him a glance as she strode by, dropping a small comm on his desk, a simple and disposable civilian model. "Good. Notify me instantly if anyone unusual shows up."

"Understood," he affirmed, before adding more quietly, as the elevator took Vasir away, "Hope you have better luck than that other one." Since he'd allowed Nyxeris into T'Soni's hall at the behest of his broker contact, he'd not seen either of them for over two days.

Sitting back down at his desk, he sighed and found himself longing for a cigarette break. Simply being paid to _look the other way_ was going to bite him on the ass someday, he fretted. Turning to his primary screen, he dismissed the churning in his gut and resumed the low-volume music he'd been playing, and began sorting through security and parking logs.

From the corner of his vision he saw a blue hand reach from behind him and snatch the comm from the desk surface. He spun in his chair, startled.

"Vasir, what n...?"

His words died as his eyes widened, reflecting a sudden biotic glow.

* * *

The front door to the luxury apartment of Liara T'Soni beeped and slid open.

Tela Vasir touched the omni-tool at her wrist, and activated the subdermal comm she'd had implanted under the flesh of her left ear-fold. "Dros, I'm going in. Be a dear and refrain from shooting me."

"_I'll do my best to hold fire."_

Spectre Tela Vasir stepped cautiously inside, pausing to listen before moving to the center of the main room. Taking a moment to look all around, she noted the tight grouping of holes punching through one window, on the far side of a dining counter that blocked the view of the floor beyond. Carefully maneuvering around the divider, she stepped into what served as the open dining room.

Slowly planting one foot in front of the other with intention deliberation, savoring the moment, she moved around the far-too-large table that would easily sit eight people.

And stopped, looking down.

A small smile touched the dark navy that painted her lips. "At ease, all units."

A short chorus of acknowledgements answered her.

Lying on the hardwood floor - in a broad puddle of dark purple - was the bloodied corpse of one Dr. Liara T'Soni. With a sneering grin that was rapidly turning into a wide smile, Vasir stepped slowly around the circumference of the puddle, while staring down at the body.

_It's her, alright. She's a cute little thing. _Was_ a cute little thing._

Walking to the floor-to-ceiling window, she paused before the tight cluster of three holes in the glass, spiderwebbed cracks radiating out from each. Staring through them for a moment, she looked at the distant building where she knew Dros was still crouched, and for an instant had a giddy urge to wave. Credits always improved her mood immensely.

"Nice shooting, Dros," she said quietly.

"_My pleasure."_

She offered a suggestive smirk in the direction of the distant rooftop, knowing he'd be focused on her with his scope. "You know, in the event that we manage to also get Shepard, a celebration might be in order. Perhaps a..._personal_ bonus invol-"

"_Vasir."_ The turian's voice had a husky rasp of urgency. _Well, it certainly didn't take long to get his attention on _that_ topic. Has someone been a secret admirer?_

"Mmhmm?" Her grin grew wider, and her lids lowered as she blinked slowly, allowing herself to imagine what he was thinking at the moment.

"_Behind you."_

A sudden biotic shield flaring brightly around her, the asari Spectre whirled to see three figures silhouetted as they walked through the open doorway.

A scarred, grim-looking turian - who wore the marks of war all over his battered armor.

A drell in crimson shades, who radiated death with every silent, gliding step.

And between them...

* * *

"Security desk is unmanned," Garrus muttered, thoughtfully.

Exchanging meaningful glances, the three experienced operatives simultaneously drew weapons and readied them, Garrus reaching for his little-used Avenger due to the close indoor quarters. Moving to the bank of elevators, Shepard slapped his hand on the button to summon one.

"Call it in," he said, quietly, with a pointed look at the sniper.

The turian nodded, stepped away and turned his back. The other two could hear his muffled, flanged voice as he spoke into his comm.

"_Normandy_, Garrus. Go yellow. Possible trouble at T'Soni's apartment. Checking it out. Have the groundside people notified but not summoned, yet."

After a pause, Shepard's enhanced hearing picked up the crackled reply.

"Garrus, _Normandy_. Copy that." Joker's voice.

The elevator arrived, and opened to reveal itself as unoccupied. Weapons were lowered, and the three men entered. Shepard's finger stabbed at _five_ to select the floor.

"Guard's chair was tipped over, and his beverage is spilled," Thane mused quietly, in his low, layered hum. "He may have left in a rush, or was assaulted and dragged away."

Shepard nodded grimly, and slapped on his visored helmet. "Assume we're entering a combat zone. Garrus, slack. Thane, rear security."

The doors opened, and the three burst out into the hallway, prepared to kill.

* * *

For an instant, both parties froze in place. Through Shepard's partially-mirrored visor, Vasir saw his eyes flick to the ghost logo on her shoulder plate, before returning to her face. Her own eyes took in his stance, the set of his mouth, and the eyes - wrong color, now - but still, unmistakable.

He spoke first. "Vasir."

Backlit by the amethyst glow of the evening sky behind her, she nodded - stepping closer to block the path to the dining area. "Shepard. You _are_ alive. It's been three years, but I recognize you. And, I assume, Vakarian? I don't know who your new friend is," she added, pointing her chin at the drell assassin.

"Who...?" Garrus muttered.

"Tela Vasir, Spectre. She was at my Council ceremony." Leaving his combat stance, he straightened and lowered his weapon, and after a moment, Garrus and Thane did likewise. "Garrus, take a look around while I talk to her. Thane, make sure we're not surprised."

Wordlessly, the turian and drell both nodded, one moving to the side and towards the stairs that led to the open second floor of the condo, while the other faded outside to the hallway.

The N7 commando stepped forward. "Forgive my suspicion, Vasir, but it's highly odd to see you h-" Over her shoulder, he spotted the three holes puncturing one of the huge windows that displayed the evening horizon of Nos Astra.

Following his eyes, she glanced back also. "Ah. Yes. I was investigating your friend, T'Soni, for connections relating to the Shadow Broker," Tela lied smoothly. "I've been working at the behest of the Council to finally uncover his identity, or at least his base of operations. Liara seemed to be doing similar work...my sources on one led to the other. Seems they've had a little underground war going on for some time now.

"Anyway,"-she jerked a thumb at the damaged window-"I had someone watching over the place, and they called in a disturbance. I'm guessing the shots were an unfriendly warning, because nothing else here is out of place. May I ask why _you're_ here, Shepard? You seem awfully geared-up for this to be a social visit."

Garrus was descending the stairs again. "No signs of a struggle - or _anything_ unusual, really."

Shepard nodded, and felt himself relax. He folded the Carnifex and returned it to the magnetic clip at his back. "Same reason. I have something for her regarding the Broker's possible location. By itself, not enough, but I assume she's assembling a puzzle and this is supposed to be a good piece," he said, patting a pouch at the front-left of his hardsuit's belt.

"Do you smell that?" Garrus asked quietly, closer now.

Already removing his helmet, Shepard turned to Garrus as Vasir moved to stand at the span of windows. "What? No." His sense of smell had been left unenhanced by Cerberus.

The turian's mandibles twitched as he quietly inhaled again. "It's...like," he muttered, as if searching his memory. "Chora's Den...that stabbing I..."

Vasir turned to the window, looking across the distance to a far building.

"Dros?" she said quietly. "Take out Vakarian - and the drell when he comes in. Shepard is mine."

* * *

"_Dros?" _The turian's headset crackled._ "Take out Vakarian - and the drell when he comes in. Shepard is mine."_

Dros opened his mouth to respond, when a warm spray - like hot raindrops - spattered down upon him from behind, followed by a heavy, dull _thump_. His voice froze in his throat. Slowly, he took his eye from the scope and, by degrees, swiveled his neck.

His batarian companion was now sprawled on the rooftop, complaints about the wind and grit long forgotten. His slackened face pressed into the fine metal grating that made for the floor, his orange-red blood gushing into and through it, from the yawning wound that had opened his throat - so widely that Dros saw the bubble of his final breath leave the top of his windpipe.

Amid the spasming of his limbs that jerked his body in place, all four of Elzod's eyes stared back at him as the life in them faded and died. The twitching slowed, and stopped.

His mouth gone dusty-dry, Dros' own eyes shifted focus to the figure standing beyond. An unusually tall, broad-shouldered drell dressed in royal blue and glossy black leathers, his youthfully smooth hide an icy teal. The drell's cold, obsidian eyes were narrowed into slits - and Dros, despite over fifteen years of dangers from constant soldiering, felt a chill hit the pit of his stomach.

With a brief glance, the turian noted the long, coal-black dagger in the right hand of Enzod's assassin - and judging from the hum at the edge of his hearing, possibly a graphene-edged vibroblade. His eyes were captured by the thick batarian blood that gathered at the tip, elongated into a syrupy string, and was whisked away by the blowing wind.

"Heatsink release," the drell intoned, his voice resonating with a sharp vibration of menace.

Dros considered his options. The rifle in his hands was heavy, bulky, and pointed in precisely the opposite direction from the threat at hand. His pistol was folded up into a magnetic holster at his thigh. And this young drell looked as fast and tightly coiled as any being he'd ever seen - indeed, his stance and expression were practically _inviting_ him to take his best shot.

Without looking - indeed, without removing his eyes from the drell's bottomless pools of malignance - Dros' thumb released the latch to the rifle's heatsink, and it fell to the rooftop with a clatter.

"Good. Your headset. Remove it, and toss it to me. Cooperation will be _far_ less painful than the alternative."

In the silence that followed, the drell's eyes flicked down to the rapidly-draining corpse of the batarian at his feet, then snapped back to meet eyes with the paralyzed turian.

The coal-black eyes blinked once, sideways. In the fading light of Nos Astra, everything was painted in crimson and deep violet.

"Ask your batarian friend," sneered Kolyat Krios. "He hardly felt a thing."

* * *

Garrus half-sniffed again, and blinked. "Blood. _Asari_ blood."

"Dros?" Vasir repeated again through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing at the distant building.

Finally, the radio crackled. _"Tall building here, Spectre. Dros should be hitting the ground right about...now."_ The nearly-whispered voice was an unfamiliar, vibrating drone.

Vasir blinked in shock, then turned back to face the open room in time to see Shepard walk around the dining counter - and freeze in mid-step, his widened silvery eyes taking in what was on the floor before him.

Tela Vasir watched Shepard's face go white, and he collapsed heavily to his knees.


	47. One Last Sunset - 3 of 4

Surrounded by aisles filled with thousands of multicolored jars and packets of all sizes, Kelly looked around the athletic nutrition store, her hands on her miniskirt-clad hips. "You're serious, Jack?"

The inked biotic looked up, arching her notched eyebrow. "Why the hell not? I mean, at least _this_ way, they're made right." She was holding up two large jars of an asari-made commercial protein shake, twisting and turning them so the holographic nutritional label would display Citadel Standard. "Oh, _ew_. Fish protein? _Powered fish protein_? That you _drink?_ The fuck's wrong with you people?"

The last words were pointedly directed to the teenage-looking asari behind the counter, who blinked in surprise and purpled slightly, before holding her hands up in confusion. "I...I don't know what-"

Kelly made a calming gesture towards her. "Nevermind her. She's just...like this."

Jack ignored her and knelt on the floor, digging through other jars, making a small pile next to her while talking to herself. "Fuckin' asari, seriously. Try something instead of fish 'n nuts 'n hippie grain shit all the time. Never heard of a cheeseburger?"

Leaning over the counter to look down on the convict, the young asari blinked without otherwise changing expression. "Um. What's-"

Without looking up, Jack shook her head. "'Course not. Fuckin' hopeless."

She put _fish_ protein back, and grabbed a fourth jar of the _vegetable_ protein, muttering while the asari and Kelly exchanged looks - with Kelly shrugging at the young alien helplessly. "Ya think Shep, Doc, and the ol' JustiMILF will suddenly get off my ass? _No_. You think Gardner will suddenly learn to follow simple fuckin' directions? _No_. And I already eat enough protein _bars_ to feed a goddamn army, so I gotta-"

Simultaneously, Kelly's omni-tool and Jack's comm chirped for attention. After exchanging glances, they looked down at the opposite end of the store where Kasumi and Sarah were browsing aimlessly - to see them also looking at _their_ omni-tools.

"Broadcast text?" Kelly wondered aloud, the orange hologram appearing as she activated hers.

"Bad feelin' about _that_," Jack muttered, unclipping her old-fashioned comm from her belt.

**[Miranda - Shepard and team have issued potential trouble alert. Secure transportation if not currently available on immediate need. Location attached. Assume standby readiness. Will update.]**

Jack shook her head. "Fuck is he doing?" Making eye contact with Sarah, she nodded towards the front door, where outside they'd parked their rental skycar. Sarah nodded in return, and headed out. Jack dropped her four jars of protein shake powder - all unpronounceable asari flavors - on the counter, followed by the rattle of her credit chip as she tossed it down.

"Ring me up, Blue, I gotta run. Get on that cheeseburger thing when you have a chance."

* * *

Times of relative normalcy and routine could be flipped in an instant. A moment separates peace from chaos. A moment can be all that separates one from the kind of soul-crushing horror that makes one wonder how they can continue on in this new, different, horrible reality.

Shepard knew this well. He had experienced many such moments.

So many thousands of lives. A river of bloodshed. The responsibility of decisions, or the helplessness of not even having had the opportunity to make one.

Virmire, for Kaidan.

Eden Prime, for so much going wrong under so much scrutiny.

Ilos, for ripping away his understanding of existence.

Horizon, for failure. For Grunt.

The _Normandy_, for a new life he'd made, a new family - torn apart before his eyes.

Elysium, where he'd gathered so many of the courageous around him - and watched them all die.

The Citadel, for tens of thousands of the now-marginalized dead.

Mindoir.

The early morning of his Mindoir escape, Shepard - barely past twelve - had crafted a compartment somewhere deep in himself. All through the night, he had stumbled and fought his way through a forest, empty of thoughts other than _run_.

In this newfound compartment, he carefully shoved everything he had felt, seen, and thought in those twenty-four hours.

_Think about it later._

_Be scared later._

_Cry later._

By the time the refugee shuttle - designed to hold forty-eight people, carrying three - had reached the safety of the first Alliance hospital ship that had arrived, the young medic who had elected to sit with him was already deeply concerned. Hospital Corpsman Second Class Aleksey "Alex" Utkin was only twenty-two years old, but was experienced with kids - he'd been the oldest of seven children.

However, at that time, the child beside him was something different.

Every feature of his face and neck was etched in dirt, making him look far older than the thirteen years the records indicated. In the last thirty minutes, Alex had seen him blink only four times.

No grief was expressed. No tears ran tracks down his face, still dirtied from the ground of his homeworld. The boy stared through the back of the seat ahead of him, at nothing. He answered questions accurately, with perfect politeness, and without delay - but dully and lacking all emotion.

_Yes, sir. I remember my name._

_John, sir._

_John Shepard, sir._

_Yes, sir, my arm is feeling better._

_No, sir, I'm not hungry._

_No, sir, I don't know of any family outside of my town._

_No, sir, I don't know of anyone I can stay with._

At a loss, Alex finally asked if there was a single living being that he even _knew personally_. He hated himself even as the words left his mouth.

That first compartment lasted less than twenty-four hours before it was smashed.

There was nobody.

Alone.

_Alone._

To his memory, it was the last time he'd ever cried in front of another person.

Since that time, he had added many more compartments; some small - and a few very, very large.

In the first weeks following his resurrection, he'd done it again. It had been, to his mind, mere hours since the _Normandy SR-1_ had burned and broken across space. In his first quiet moment since then, rather then grieve, he'd faced Miranda's questions to _evaluate his condition_. She'd dropped the phrase _two years_ like he'd been sleeping for two hours.

The Cerberus scientist had been halfway through her question of _do you remember what happened on Virmire_, when she'd stopped in mid-sentence - when it had become obvious that Shepard had been close to exploding out of his seat to choke her to death.

However, with visible effort, he'd composed himself and answered.

Yes, I remember his name.

Kaidan.

Kaidan Alenko.

Yes, he was my friend.

Yes, I left him behind to die. _Thanks for asking._

Why? To save as many as we could.

In the stony silence that had followed, he'd stared out of the window into the nothingness of space and built a new compartment.

_Normandy._ Lost.

Half of his crew. Lost.

Two years of his life. Lost.

The memories were so fresh they felt like _today._ Liara and he had leapt, naked, from his cabin's bed to find the _Normandy_ aflame. There had not even been a proper goodbye, simply an order for evacuation that could not be ignored.

He was far too pragmatic a man to be considered a romantic, and yet, as he had rushed to Liara's office that first time - either two years or a week later - it had been not to let his mind run wild with possibilities.

There might be laughter, there might be anger, and there would almost certainly be tears. She may even lock the door behind him - and she would rediscover him, body and soul, right there on her desk.

He had bounded up the stairs to her reception area three steps at a time. He'd had to restrain himself from straight-arming Nyxeris out of the way and barging directly in to reclaim her.

None of possibilities that had flipped through his mind had included meeting a virtual stranger.

Compartmentalize. He had a job to do. Collectors. Humanity. Duty. _Focus_.

Now, a sledgehammer of shock impacted his sternum, bypassing over a decade of emotional armor - shattering the compartment that was _Liara T'Soni_.

His armored knees crashed into the dining room floor, and his helmet tumbled from his hands and spun away.

* * *

For two entire breaths.

For the first time since his resurrection, he didn't view the vast amount of time he'd lost as a deep, clawing, cold-blooded unfairness enforced upon him by an unfeeling galaxy. Had he felt full awareness during those two years, he'd also have experienced the passing of time. Time that may have blurred the edges of important memories - the look, feel, and touch of things precious to him.

The gentle slope of her nose. Once, in the Mako and waiting for Garrus to return from his overwatch perch, he'd applied a dab of medi-gel to the bloody bridge of it - she'd fallen on her face dodging a geth rocket - while playfully running his finger up and down while she'd stared back at him in unblinking silence. They had been _Normandy Commander_, and _Prothean Expert_ at the time, nothing more. Finished, he'd squeezed out an extra bit of gel on his fingertip, and dabbed it like frosting on the very tip of that pretty blue nose. The teasing gesture had made her blush fiercely.

The barely-visible freckles that dusted the top of her cheekbones. He'd first seen them in detail after they had been forced to kill Benezia, and while he'd held her face in both of his hands, he'd automatically moved his thumb over her finely-scaled, soft skin and brushed away one of her tears. The glittering, impossibly blue-eyed look she'd returned to him was seared into his mind.

The curve of her neck. The way it flowed into her shoulders. The curves of her hips, the high, firm swell of her breasts, her everything. As the ship had approached Ilos, Liara had summoned a burst of courage and come to his room. She'd spoken quickly, as if every passing second had increased the chances of her losing her nerve, her expression longing and brittle.

Finding him receptive, she'd seemed to nearly collapse with relief, as fear had been replaced by a sudden joy - before she'd peeled herself out of her modest scientific uniform before his eyes. That night, and the month that had followed, he'd committed every single sensual millimeter of her to memory.

By the third breath, he already knew.

_This is not Liara._

The sledgehammer hit him again - this time, with relief. He gasped, his head pounding and dizziness threatening to send him to the floor. Too much, too soon.

He heard Vasir's voice quietly pierce the silence. "Sorry, Shepard," she murmured, flatly.

Garrus' boots came to rest by his side. He heard his friend's sharp intake of breath.

"Oh, _Spirits_. No."

_Something...is wrong. Vasir is waiting for something. Outside. And she muttered to herself. Or...into a comm?_

_The sniper rounds were not a warning. They shot this asari. Vasir doesn't know that this isn't Liara...? But...she's waiting for-_

_Follow-up shots?_

Tearing his eyes away from the asari corpse before him, he looked up to find the Spectre staring back at him. After a moment of mutual measurement, Vasir narrowed her eyes.

"You know what, Shepard? It's time to simplify this job," the asari growled as she tapped her temple. "All units, close in." The hair on the back of Shepard's neck bristled as her armored body flared with biotic energy.

From only a few meters away, Vasir dropped into a quick crouch before leaping directly at him.

* * *

It had taken Kolyat a few moments to recover the unloaded Incisor rifle, take the now-dead turian's place lying prone on the building's edge, and acquire the right window in the distance. In the falling darkness, it was difficult to determine exactly who was who - the condo lights were not yet turned on, and the sharp angle of the falling sun was casting purple light at the wrong angle.

Until one bulky figure burst into intense blue-white energy, causing him to squint into the scope. The interior of the apartment was aglow with biotic energy, and a moment afterwards there was a barely-contained explosion of light that sent spiderweb cracks along two of the shatter-resistant windows. Watching the scene unfold through the scope, the young drell released the pistol-grip and pressed a finger to his temple, applying pressure to a small switch implanted just under his skin.

"Vasir's gone offensive, _go_."

* * *

Shepard surged to his feet at the new threat before him, even as Garrus was simultaneously jarred from his shock by Vasir's sudden biotic display. Both of them reached for the weapons folded at their backs.

There was, of course, not nearly enough time to do anything.

Already in the air, she was leaping towards them - he'd expected some sort of tackle, and even as he was drawing his Carnifex, his other arm came up defensively.

Instead, her right gauntlet burst into a biotic light that was so intense it cast the entire room in blinding whiteness - through the smudges of color in his failing vision, he saw the curving beam of her fist punching down towards the floor.

The silence of instant and complete deafness.

He never heard the explosion of the mass-repelling gravitational tidal force - later, he remembered the sensation of flying, followed by slamming into something immovable. There was a chaos of noise all around him, and as he tumbled from the wall to the floor he caught an instant of clear vision. Furniture, plates from the dining table, Garrus, the asari corpse, his helmet - everything in Vasir's immediate vicinity had been hurled violently away from her to crash into the walls of Liara's apartment.

Glittering white lights danced in his vision, and even though he could feel his face pressed into the floor, determining which way was _up_ was eluding him.

_No, not floor. Counter._ He'd been thrown into the kitchen, and was lying face-down on a marble slab, next to Liara's knives and carving board. With a groan, he rolled to the side and tried to put his feet down to stand, but his legs disobeyed him and he fell heavily to the floor in a clatter of armor, coughing in the cloud of dust he raised. He felt flushed, hot, and knew it was the millions of nanobots flooding into his bloodstream, seeking out damage to repair.

_Come on, you microscopic robot bastards, do your thing._

A hand seized his upper arm, and he was roughly rolled over to be flat on his back. Vasir sneered down at him through what felt like a fog, and reached into the pouch at his waist, taking the data chip. "_Surprise_, human. I'm going to finish the job your pureblood girlfriend screwed up for the Broker two years ago."

_What?_

The asari Spectre's head snapped up, and again, his skin tingled as she burst into light. In an instant, she was simply _gone_ - in her place a haze of swirled colors that streaked away outside of his line of sight as she, for an immeasurably small amount of time, wormholed across the room to slam into her target with her biotic barriers. There was a muffled crunch of impact, another ripple of gravity that churned his stomach, and a strangled shout of pain.

* * *

Kilometers away, the scope fell away from Kolyat's face, which was slackened in shock. Dropping the rifle, he leapt to his feet and bolted to the center of the building's roof, where he ripped open a service door and vanished down the stairs.

* * *

With a groan, Garrus pushed the against the heavy weight that was pinning him to the floor, tipping it over and discovering that it was a clothing cabinet. He'd been thrown back up into the second floor, right into Liara's open bedroom. Rolling painfully onto his right side - plaster and bits of rock raining off of him in dusty piles - he activated his omni-tool comm.

"_Normandy,_" he coughed, "Site is red..."

* * *

Seconds later, Vasir strolled back and loomed over Shepard - the room was nearly black now, and she was lit by a thin slice of violet light, the last gasp of the star Tasale as it settled deeply into the tall buildings of the Nos Astra skyline.

There was a flanged groan in the distance - _Garrus?_ - and the sound of shifting debris. Unconcerned, Vasir crouched comfortably next to Shepard, and examined his data chip. Holding it between an armored forefinger and thumb, she admired it for a moment before tucking it into a pouch attached to the hardshell plate of her thigh.

The asari smirked down at him, the lavender slashes of color that decorated her face giving her a predatory look. "Your drell isn't much good in a stand-up fight, is he? Running in here to help you was the worst decision of his day...I think I just broke half of the bones in his bod-"

Vasir paused, noticing that Shepard was no longer looking up at her, but _past_ her, and in his eyes she saw the beginnings of a reflected blue light - which rapidly increased in breadth and intensity to fill the entire room with an even glow. Craning her neck, she twisted to look up at the ceiling.

Rippling the high-strength concrete and distorting the air like heat-waves on a desert highway, the bottom half of a blue sphere was expanding out the floor above them. And getting larger.

The small objects all around them - the broken dishes, the chunks of floor and wall - began to vibrate and rattle, then slide across the floor towards the spot below the sphere, which was Shepard himself. As the sphere continued to grow, the gathered fragments piled up against him like a gathering snowdrift, where they quivered and began to rise up into the air.

Vasir cursed and backpedaled away, putting her back to the wall between two of the windows at her original position. From his spot, lying on the floor directly below the anomaly, Shepard could feel it beginning to war with the planet's gravity, fighting to lift him into the sphere's center.

* * *

[Miranda - BREAK-BREAK - SITE IS RED. Proceed and assist command team ASAP.]

Reclining on the front deck of the skycar, her back resting on the windshield and her pack under her head as a pillow, Jack frowned at the new comm message. "_Site is red?_ What the fuck is cheer-bear going on abou-"

"Attack in progress!" Sarah snapped as she ran around the vehicle and yanked open the driver's door. "Everyone in the car! Jack, you're shotgun!"

The biotic rolled off of the hood as Kasumi and Kelly jumped in the back, the Cerberus yeoman looking pale. "Damn right I'm shotgun," she muttered. Jumping in, she unzipped her pack and pulled out exactly that.

* * *

Abruptly - with a deep _boom_ that rattled his organs - the center of the half-sphere compressed into a lightless, pitch-black ball, ripping a perfect circular hole into the ceiling and absorbing it into a glowing-edged void the side of a fist. The hundreds of floating bits of the room's rubble shot towards it, beginning to swirl around it rapidly as if caught in an invisible centrifuge.

With a sucking sound as even the air around it was gathered and sent into dark matter, the sphere collapsed - and abruptly the light from the sphere's corona winked out, casting the room into an instant of darkness. As the room's debris lost suspension of gravity, hundreds of kilos of fragments fell from the ceiling - and something from the now-empty hole came with it.

A glowing, lightning-covered form, wreathed in biotic power. Dressed entirely in a flat-black commando armor, this new addition was bristling with weapons - Shepard immediately noted two pistols and three blades of various sizes. She landed with legs braced widely on either side of Shepard - again, his teeth buzzed and his skin crawled with the _wrongness_ of the abuse being done to the immediate area of Illium's magnetic field - standing inside a spherical void of the bits and dust that clattered to the floor all around her.

In an instant, Shepard perceived that the newcomer looked _terrible_. Her nose was discolored and covered by a strip of white tape, both eyes were blackened - one partially closed by swelling - and her mouth looked like she had been through a boxing match, and lost. Both ungloved hands were wrapped in white cloth strips; the right hand bandaged all the way to mid-forearm, the black armor crudely cut away to accommodate the wrappings.

Despite her many apparent injuries, her eyes danced with light, and she spared Shepard not even a glance - staring at Vasir with the unblinking gaze of a bird of prey.

Shepard's eyes widened in shock for the second time in only minutes. The asari was devoid of the eyebrow-like markings, her face was streaked with red splashes of color, and her lips painted an unfamiliar crimson. Nevertheless, for all the same reasons he knew who the dead asari on the floor was _not_, he knew who this _was_.

"Vasir," Dr. Liara T'Soni's voice cut through the sudden silence of the room, "I believe you are looking for me."

* * *

The sight of Liara, alive and whole, surged fresh energy through him, and Shepard rolled to his hands and knees. The fog cleared, while the pounding in his head actually worsened with the sharpening of his senses. Over his head, he heard the same buzzing roar of Vasir's biotic charge, along with the familiar sound of Liara throwing up her powerful shields. The impact of the two colliding biotics sent him across the floor, sliding through the remains of the room to impact with the far wall, away from both the windows and the warring asari as they grunted and sniped at each other with words.

"The kitten has grown some claws...but she's still _just a kitten_," Vasir taunted, smashing a hole in Liara's stonework wall as the scientist ducked under the glowing fist.

The ex-archaeologist quickly dropped a _Stasis_ on the Spectre, slowing her momentarily, while backing away a few steps. Liara took time to note that Shepard had unsteadily risen to his feet while picking up his Carnifex. Meanwhile, above them both, Garrus had staggered to the railing and leaned on it for a moment, taking in the scene before him - and blinking at the obviously very much alive Liara in a moment of confusion - before reaching back and unfolding his Mantis. From the hallway, there was a _click_ as Thane - seated and clutching his chest, his mouth running freely with blood - leveled his Shuriken SMG at Vasir.

"It seems the hunter may have caught her quarry...and now doesn't know what to do with it," Liara responded evenly, drawing her Paladin handgun.

Wreathed in her containment shield, the asari Spectre smiled. "You think this was ever about you? Fool girl, I _always_ have options, and heroes are _so_ predictable." With a flare of her own biotic barrier, Vasir shrugged off the _Stasis_ with ease, and bolted into a powerful run - directly at the bullet-damaged window.

* * *

For the second time in his new life, Shepard mentally flicked an internal switch - and a dozen cybernetic implants in his body all exploded into action. Chemical cocktails dumped into his bloodstream, muscle weaves aligned and strengthened, and key parts of his nervous system went into a semiconductive state. He exploded away from his spot on the wall, tracking the trajectory of Vasir and picking a spot where they would meet at an apex. There was only one choice outside of inaction.

Liara had a split-second to consider the meaning of Vasir's words, before both of the Spectres were streaking at impossible speeds towards her own damaged window - the one that separated her _ninth-floor_ condo from the free air of the outdoors and the public courtyard below.

A burst from Thane's machine-pistol impacted the barrier at Vasir's back, and was completely ignored. From above, Garrus' Mantis blasted like a cannon - at what would be point-blank range for that weapon - and Tela's barrier flashed, but she only stumbled before continuing her sprint.

_Goddess. She's like a tank._

Liara had time to form the shouted syllables of _Shepard no,_ even as he impacted the glowing Vasir like a freight train - hard enough to lift her from the floor, wrapping her up in both arms, and sending them both into the already-weakened window like an out-of-control missile. With a tremendous smash, the cybernetic super-soldier and the juggernaut of a biotic vanguard exploded through it and fell into darkness.

* * *

Leaning forward with excitement, the tattooed biotic drummed her fingers on the dash impatiently. "How long?" she asked, for the fourth time.

Gritting her teeth to bite back a frankly rude retort, Sarah glanced at the holo display in front of her, before returning her focus to dodging a cargo vehicle. Behind her, Kelly squeaked as she clamped both hands over her mouth. "Four minutes!" Sarah had the accelerator pinned to the floor, and was passing traffic at an astonishing rate.

"Drink this," Kasumi instructed, as her hand appeared in front of Jack, leaning in from over her shoulder. It was one of the biotic's newly-purchased electrolyte beverages. "This is a fight in progress, not an espionage mission. Of the four of us, you'll be doing the heavy lifting."

The biotic grudgingly took the offered bottle. "Good idea," she muttered, ripping the cap off of it. Tipping the bottle up to her mouth, she spilled half of her first mouthful of the yellow liquid all over herself as Sarah pulled a far-beyond-vehicle-specs barrel-roll to avoid a taxi. "Jesus _fuck!_" the biotic shouted as over fifteen shopping bags chaotically bounced around the interior of the vehicle, spilling contents all over the occupants.

"Sorry!" the pilot snapped in reply.

Jack laughed maniacally. "No, no, I mean that was _awesome!_ Do it again!"

"Kelly," the thief continued loudly - grabbing the novelty t-shirt that had landed on her head, whipping it off to toss behind her into the back seat (which had stylized asari expletives printed on it, below a crude drawing of breasts) - as the redhead shifted her wild green eyes to her while peering over her hands, "Stay in the car. Sarah, stay behind the wheel. If anyone is seriously hurt, evac them and use the car as an ambulance. Jack, I'll be on your six doing spotting and lookout, so you can focus on profanely kicking ass and whatever else it is you do."

"Fuckin' right I will!" the biotic yelled, slapping the dash with an open palm.

"And take a moment to sort out the good and bad guys before you randomly tear someone in half," Kasumi amended.

In mid-drink, the biotic turned and looked at her with a wolfish grin, her eyes feverish with energy. "You said _before_, right?"

The thief sighed. "Well, do your best."

* * *

Twisting and struggling, Vasir and Shepard fought, clawed, and kneed at each other as they tumbled through the dark sky, gaining speed. Still feeling the effects of the chemicals crashing through his system, they fell from the sky seemingly in slow-motion, and he struck the asari a half-dozen times - but without being able to brace himself against anything solid, the blows lacked power.

For a moment, Vasir flared her biotics and he felt their descent begin to arrest - and he responded by slamming his forehead into the point of her chin. He heard her teeth click together as she momentarily went limp. Still, she had bled off some of their velocity before-

With a splash that sent water ten meters into the air, they both crashed into the large decorative fountain that dominated the luxury courtyard, with the N7 commando on the bottom. Shepard's armor impacted the marble statue of a life-sized nude asari that was gracefully pouring water into the huge pool that surrounded her, shattering it and wrenching his back painfully as he felt one of the plates of his suit buckle with a _crack_. Flipping in mid-air, he landed face-down in the thigh-deep water, completely disoriented.

After several long moments of confused flailing, he got his legs under him and shot to the surface, coughing and nearly blinding himself on one of the spotlights that illuminated the statue during the night hours. Although partially deafened by the water sloshing in his ears, he felt clear-headed again - the white fog over his senses had lifted. The tech-enhanced adrenaline rush that had been so time-bendingly effective - yet ultimately debilitating - had been extensively de-tuned by Tali at the same time she'd re-programed his nanobots to _not_ treat his own brain like an injured organ.

Judging by the pounding in his skull, that organ's status was currently up for review, however.

Twenty or more asari residents and visitors to the public courtyard were either staring in shock, or pointing and coming forward - wondering what kind of terrible accident had just occurred.

_Vasir?_

Looking about wildly, he turned in a full one-eighty degree-

The asari Spectre's glowing fist impacted him directly in the face - the fading last seconds of his enhanced time perception allowed him to partially twist away, but he still took a good shot in the mouth that sent his vision into whiteness as he stumbled backwards awkwardly to fall into the water, catching the fountain edge with one arm and not quite submerging. He tasted blood in his mouth, the pounding in his head was doubled, and Shepard would really have appreciated it if all the civilians would just _please stop screaming into my supercharged ability to hear things very very well_.

"Not bad, Shepard. Expected to get out clean." Vasir was slowly stalking towards him, lit by the underwater lights like a supernatural killer - which was not terribly inaccurate, he had the presence of mind to note. Glancing up, he saw Liara leap out of the broken window they had smashed and float down toward them while pinwheeling her arms for stability - unable to match Samara's grace while performing the same maneuver.

"Welcome back, T'Soni," he heard Vasir growl to herself as she followed his eyes upwards. With a grim smile, she waited until Liara had nearly landed. Half of the water volume of the entire fountain exploded into the sky in a white spray, as the asari Spectre blasted towards Liara in the glowing blur of a vanguard's charge.

Unable to sustain a full barrier and do a mass-managed fall at the same time, Liara's cry of pain was heard over the sound of biotic shields crashing together. Vasir rammed her violently through decorative shrubs and into the external wall of her own building, hard enough that the ground shuddered.

The asari Spectre walked out of the hole they'd made in the hedges, alone, and looking smug - an expression that quickly changed when she was nearly knocked from her feet by another heavy round from Garrus' Mantis. With an uttered curse, she stumbled her way into a run - past the fountain and heading out of the courtyard.

Regaining his footing in the sloshing remains of the now knee-deep water, Shepard searched for his Carnifex. Though the swirls of blood in the water, he spied it resting at the bottom, sitting on one of the underwater lights. Picking the handgun up, Shepard clambered over the wall of the fountain, shaking the water out of the modified weapon even as he tracked Vasir's movements.

He watched the asari Spectre turn a corner into an underground walking tunnel - just as another blast from Garrus' Mantis caught her, lifting her from her feet and sending her skidding across the stones of the walkway. Shepard saw her roll to her feet and keep going, and he heard a distant turian curse, shouted from far above.

At the same time, over a dozen gray-armored troops charged out of the walkway tunnel and began to advance on his position, taking what cover they could find.

_Dammit!_

* * *

"There, _there!_" Jack shouted excitedly, leaning forward so far she was nearly pressing her forehead into the windshield. It was a needless declaration - the courtyard grounds were lit up by the light of muzzle-flashes, rocket-fire, grenade explosions, and a fading streak of biotic energy.

"I see it," Sarah replied calmly, slipping between three tall buildings - the lights of the apartments a blur at this distance - and banking the car so sharply that looking out the side window was now _down_, offering them a good view of the tightly-contained battlefield.

Though the skycar was still thirty meters in the air and in mid-bank, the convict had ripped off her restraints and was already yanking at the door handle. "Fuck's wrong with this thing?!" she yelled, a scratchy note of hysteria in her voice.

"Civilian rental vehicle, Jack!" yelled Kasumi in reply, pressed into her seatbelts by the g-forces Sarah was currently pulling as she searched for an in-cover spot to land. "You can't just open the doors in mid-flight whenever you feel like-"

With a snarl of anger, the convict rammed her Eviscerator shotgun between her knees, holding it in place as both of her hands erupted into biotic light. Clenching them together in a double-fist, she hammered the door just below the glass. With a deafening _bang _that echoed through the car_, _the door exploded off the hinges as the glass shattered - the resulting blast of wind sending freshly-purchased merchandise cycloning around the interior.

The door, bits of glass, and Jack all fell straight down and away from the vehicle, vanishing into the darkness. An instant later, the interior of the vehicle was illuminated as her entire body erupted in an aura of blinding blue light - observers would perhaps wonder if the nearly-out-of-control car had just ejected a biotic bomb.

They, of course, would be entirely correct.

"Jesus!" Sarah had time to yell, just before a shopping bag struck her in the face and stuck there, making the car jerk wildly - coming dangerously close to the building immediately preceeding Liara's. Kasumi reached forward and snatched the plastic bag from Sarah's face - cooly handing it to Kelly, who regarded it with eyes as big as saucers.

"Kelly, honeybunch, would you please secure your sex-toy packaging!?" the thief requested with as much sugary sweetness that she could muster, while also yelling at the top of her lungs to be heard over the hurricane filling the car.

"That could be yours!" snapped Kelly, ripping the bag indignantly from her hand - having to force her arm against centrifugal forces as the car entered a tight, fast, spiraling dive.

"Don't contradict my snappy and hilarious dialogue!" Kasumi retorted loudly.

"_Will you two shut the fuck up for a minute?!_" bellowed Sarah, ripping the mass-brake back with her right hand, causing such a sudden deceleration that both of the back-seat occupants had their foreheads bounce off of the seat-backs in front of them - an instant before the car slammed into the grass, bouncing them all against their seat restraints and sending over twenty packages bouncing up to hit the inside of the roof.

* * *

Shepard huddled against the edge of the fountain for a moment, letting the bits of grass, hedge, and clods of dirt rain down upon him from a poorly-thrown grenade. Popping up, his modded Hand Cannon roared twice, the fat disruptor rounds knocking down one armored human with a shot to the chest that collapsed his shields - and the second, a headshot that snapped back the helmet of a salarian with a spray of green mist.

Moving ahead to crouch behind a concrete stairway that led to an elevated flower garden, Shepard nearly ran over Liara, who had finally stumbled out of the hole in the shrubbery that Vasir had driven her into. One arm hung limply, and she was nearly doubled over in pain. "Shepard!" she gasped, falling to her knees beside him, and ducking tracer rounds that shot past them to thud into the building.

There were, easily, a thousand things he wanted to say and do, but the career soldier pushed them down in favor of practicality. "Who is that in your apartm-" Shepard interrupted his own words to pop up and fire his handgun with a steady, two-handed grip. One shot blasted from it with enough force that water droplets were kicked from his armor from the recoil. "What's happening here?" he finished, crouching down again but keeping his eyes on the field, tracking enemy movements. From above, Garrus' rifle thundered again.

Without looking at him, Liara twisted - stiffening in pain at the movement, hissing a breath inwards between her blood-purpled teeth - sitting and putting her back to the concrete ledge as she wiped more of it from her nose and mouth with her bandaged hands. "Vasir is dirty. I've been monitoring some of her communications since she arrived on Illium. She's in the pocket of the Broker...he's been making a push to kill me, for weeks."

Shepard's handgun blasted away another Broker trooper, before he shot her another glance. "And someone died in your place."

Liara, moving carefully, drew her Paladin handgun from the thigh holster of her black armor, and watched it unfold in her hand. She looked completely devoid of the ability to get back to her feet, much less fight effectively. "A double. In'yala was a lifelong petty criminal that I arranged for the release of - I offered her a real job. I rented the unit above mine, for her use. We would switch places when I had reason to feel threatened - swap our appearances, our clothes..."

"She's _dead_, Liara. She took shots for you." The statement of fact came out more accusatory than he intended, his voice raised over the sound of gunfire impacting their cover and sending small bits of stonework raining on them.

"That means she did her job _correctly_, Shepard!" the battered-looking asari snapped in return, before she coughed and clutched her side, her face twisting as her breath caught. "And...I am sorry. That you...saw that."

The flash of memory of that moment dropped a ball of ice into his stomach, and he couldn't even look at her as he replied. "You look spent. Stay here, whi-"

The sides of the buildings all around them, that served to wall in the public courtyard, lit up with brilliant blue light - causing most to avert their eyes, now adjusted to the late-evening darkness. Peering over the edge of their cover, Shepard risked a look.

Seemingly, out of the sky fell a blue star. As it neared the ground, arcs of energy forked out of it to lash at the concrete and grass as the globe of light landed in the center of the advancing enemy forces, casting them all in severe light and shadow. It was a humanoid figure - enveloped in radiant biotic light, black and featureless inside the brilliant glow, like a human eclipse.

Shrugging off the scattered, confused shots impacting it - Vasir's soldiers not knowing what to make of this new addition - the form reached out arms towards a grouping of three armored troops. With a jerking gesture of its arms and a screech of unleashed aggression, the violent throwing motion lifted them into the air - now coated in light, themselves - and fired them across the field to slam into a building wall, three stories up. The smashing sound that resulted, of shattering armor and unyielding concrete meeting together, was cringe-inducing.

Subject Zero tore into them all.

Scrambling away from the screaming biotic terror - and the sudden memory of _kissing_ that wild dervish of manipulated gravity only hours before, struck Shepard - four of the troops panicked and shrank away, seeking shelter behind a concrete ledge. They faced away from Jack, exposing their backs towards Shepard and Liara's own position. Close to those four, six other troops were also distracted, but not grouped together. Everything on the battlefield was distracted by Jack full-offense display.

_Make the move._

"Singularity! Four targets!"

Shepard was up and charging away at a sharp angle before Liara had a chance to reply or acknowledge. Going left, his handgun thundered once and caught a closeby turian on the side of the knee, nearly blasting the leg from his body. He collapsed and flopped in agony as Shepard leapt directly over him and kept running.

Rising up - gasping in pain and on her second try - the asari summoned the requested gravity well in the center of the four men. She'd been through too many battles with Shepard, as they stood beside Garrus, Wrex, Ash, Tali, and Kaidan - for her to misinterpret his intention. An instant later, the four humanoids were floating in the air in a cacophony of collapsing armor and shattering limbs as they were crushed together by a fundamental force of nature.

Now halfway across the courtyard, Shepard passed Jack as her biotics literally tore an armored salarian in half, his torso and legs flying in opposite directions.

"Jack! Pop the 'well!"

Not bothering to look back, Shepard lengthened his stride and bore down on Vasir's last known position. As he ran into the tunnel, there was a detonation of force and light behind him.

Shepard was lifted from the ground and thrown forward into the darkness.


	48. One Last Sunset - 4 of 4

_*** - way back in chapter 2!**_

_**** - non-combatant**_

* * *

Garrus Vakarian - with the mindless muscle memory of countless thousands of repetitions - smoothly stroked the trigger of his heavily-customized Mantis heavy sniper rifle. The blast sent a meter-long tongue of flame from the muzzle, out of Liara's shattered ninth-story window and into the cool breeze of Illium's night sky.

The round went precisely where he intended. Thirty meters down and eighty away, it struck Tela Vasir directly between the shoulder blades.

The turian sniper watched her barrier flare as she was thrown from her feet to sprawl on the ground - and used her momentum to roll forward, regain her footing, and keep running while looking unharmed.

"_Dammit!"_ he barked loudly, giving in to a flash of rage; he was momentarily tempted to hurl the Mantis from the window to watch it shatter on the ground.

_A Hammerhead would be in worse shape by now._

Instead, the instincts born from years of training and service had his hands cycling the heatsink - muscle memory alone refreshing his weapon for the next shot. Meanwhile, he unconsciously sorted out his targeting options from the forces that were rushing the field, clearly in support of the asari Spectre.

One trigger pull; a gratifying punch into his right shoulder; and grim satisfaction as one of the gray-armored soldiers - a turian - went down in shattered armor and a mist of navy blood.

_That's better. Sorry, bro. You picked the wrong side toda-_

With a pulsing _whoosh_ of engine deceleration, a red skycar descended and stopped at the blown-out window next to the one he was perched in. Hurriedly, Garrus backpedaled to gain a few steps of distance, dropped the heavy Mantis into a cloud of rock-dust on the debris-littered floor, and unfolded his little-used Avenger assault rifle.

The car hovered in place as the driver door opened, and a young drell in royal blue leathers nimbly hopped out. Scanning the room, he froze in place as he spotted Garrus stepping forward from a wedge of shadows - the assault rifle leveled and rock-steady in his hands. In response, his target slowly raised his hands, palms out.

"Vakarian. I'm a friendly," the drell intoned.

"I've heard that before," the turian responded with a growl, gesturing with a point of his chin to the mess all around him. "Turned out _not_ so friendly."

The teal-colored alien inclined his head in agreement. "Mm. You may shoot me, I suppose. However, I have the advantage of having been told you're a reasonable sort. Thus, you may prefer taking my car and going groundside. My business is insi-"

A blinding flash from outside was followed an instant later by a massive explosion that cut off his words. The two windows by the drell were blasted inward, spiderwebbed and concave, but held. However, the window Garrus had been crouching in was already broken and missing, so nothing existed to absorb the compression wave that swatted him from his feet.

As he was thrown sideways, Garrus caught a glimpse of the drell - tucking and rolling - as the skycar was rocked sideways to _crash_ into the remaining two windows, shattering them. Garrus tensed to push himself away even further as the car was pushed partly inside, knocking aside rubble and the already-flipped dining table, before the VI autopilot returned it to original position, dragging it over the steel and concrete of the window frames. A fresh fogging of dust and debris filled the apartment, obscuring his vision.

"_Spirits_. Getting pretty tired of being blown up," the turian muttered as he rose up to his knees.

The unknown drell was gone. Just outside the window, the VI-piloted hover kept the drell's skycar in place; the driver door open.

With a curse, Garrus stored his Avenger, picked up his filthy Mantis, and regained his feet.

* * *

"Shepard, Normandy. Please respond." Joker adjusted his cap, folded his arms, and slouched further into his chair.

"Shepard, Normandy. Please respond."

Silence.

Miranda paced back and forth in the command hall behind Joker's chair, arms folded tightly - stopping on every pass to peer at her holo screens, at the last station before the cockpit. Off to the side, a silent Jacob stood with his arms crossed and leaning against the wall, following her with his eyes and remaining silent.

The pilot swiveled his chair just enough to be able to peer back at her. "I don't suppose you'd consider putting on slippers? Bunnies, reindeer, whatever you like. The sound of your heels is driving me insane - I keep expecting a pony to trot up beside me."

"What the _hell_ is going on down there?" she muttered, ignoring him. Joker sighed and turned back to face the front. The Cerberus operative had already given the order that the second shuttle be prepped and ready for deployment. However, she was loathe to deploy her remaining operatives - thus committing them and losing mission flexibility - without an adequate amount of intel.

"Equipment failure?" Miranda finally wondered, aloud.

"Commander Shepard's audio comm and omni-tool are both responding to diagnostic queries, there is no malfunction I can detect."

On cue, another comm channel crackled. _"Normandy, Garrus. You getting this?"_

Miranda hopped down and settled back into her crew station. "Normandy here. Status."

"_Ran into an armored-up asari that Shepard identified as Tela Vasir, Council Spectre. Uh, some stuff went down, then she blasted us and bolted. Took Shepard's data chip, I think. Shepard and Liara - long story, but we made contact - went out the window aft-"_

"Miranda!" Joker's voice, tense with urgency, cut through her focused listening.

"Hold on, Garrus." Incredulously, she turned and faced the cockpit. "What? What's so bloody impor-"

"Comm traffic from Antaeus system! Uh, contact consistent with sensor information from Horizon now approaching the planet Trebin!" he exclaimed, the words tumbling out as he spun the pilot's chair to face her, his face tight with stress.

"There is an ExoGeni pilot colony there, gauging long-term settlement feasibility," EDI added. "Population is officially listed at twenty-one thousand individuals, all human."

"Collector vessel," Joker added, looking helpless.

Miranda's ivory face tightened. "What? _Now?_"

"Jesus," Jacob muttered. "We don't have a lot of tools on hand to throw at them. Still, we gotta-"

"No, we do _not_," Miranda finished, turning back to her console.

"Uh," Joker started.

"Miranda, twenty-one thousand people," Jacob finished, quietly, as if reminding her of something very important.

"I can _count_, gentlemen," she replied, not looking up. "This vessel is still the mobile site of the _Lazarus Project_, of which the focus is Commander John Shepard - who we intend to lead humanity against the Collectors and the Reapers, when the time comes. Remember them? We're not abandoning him for twenty-one thousand people when billions of lives are potentially at stake. And, as far as specialists go, we're practically at skeleton-crew strength up here."

Jacob and Joker exchanged a glance. "Miranda," Jacob began, "Those colonists are...entire _fam-_"

The raven-haired woman spun in her chair, and she fixed him in place with blue eyes that gleamed with intensity. "Don't. Just _don't_. If you had a choice to save eighty people over one, you'd not hesitate to choose. Don't let the big numbers blind you. If what we _think_ we know about the Reapers is true - and if you have serious doubts, you're on the wrong mission - we may be facing an extinction-level event. Humanity will not cease to be a viable species because of the loss of Trebin. Now get the others, get down there, find Shepard if you can, and assist."

A frown deeply creased Jacob's face. "And if we reach him in the meantime, and he orders us to go?"

Miranda turned back to her console. "I'll deal with _what-if_ when the time comes. This is my decision and it's been made."

"Understood." With that, the former corsair strode down the command hall, looking profoundly unhappy.

"This is pretty fucking cold-blooded, even for _you_," Joker growled, turning back to face the front.

The back of the Normandy XO's head turned a few degrees towards him, without bothering to spare him a glance. "If you have issues with my decision that nothing can supercede our big-picture goal, and you'd like a second bloody opinion, _ask a Prothean_."

* * *

"_Jack! Pop the 'well!"_

Upon hearing Shepard's words shouted to Jack, Liara huddled back down behind her concrete cover, both hands clasped to her head. She'd not worked with another biotic in combat in years - a flash of fond memory struck her of Kaidan's studied professionalism, perfectly executing their practiced moves dozens of times - and knew her _Singularity_ was far more powerful now.

At the sensation of a pulsing mass effect engine, she cracked open one eye - to see a black skycar partially decelerate before slamming to the ground nearly beside her. Liara was reaching for her pistol when the driver-side rear door kicked open, and Kasumi Goto smoothly rolled out into the near-darkness - jumping to her feet, she cocked her hip out saucily, while racking a round into her machine-pistol with a flourish. "Yo, let's _do_ this shi-"

"GET DOWN!" Liara shouted at her, and instinctively the hooded thief hit the dirt at Liara's feet with an admirable lack of hesitation.

_Boom._

A nova-bright flash of white light erupted, and the ground bucked and heaved as a massive explosion rocked the courtyard. Windows smashed on the buildings at all three sides, and a shockwave of air carrying bits of dirt, concrete, grass, and pieces of armored soldier rained down on them - bouncing off of the skycar with hollow _thunks, _as well as the occasional meaty _squelch_.

The void left by temporarily damaged hearing was slowly filled with the pitter-pat of tiny debris falling all around them.

For a moment, all was still.

Liara, still holding her head in her hands, opened one eye, followed by the other.

With a _whirrrrr_, the filthy and cracked driver-side window of the skycar lowered slowly. Sarah's face, wide-eyed and shiny with a thin layer of sweat, peered at both the asari and human lying down in the grass. "What the _hell_ was that?" she asked, incredulously.

Raising her face from the ground where she had ended up prone, Kasumi spit out two blades of grass. "_Spffft._ I think it was a nuke."

Sitting up with a groan, Liara brushed grit and pebbles out of her crest. "Jack detonated my _Singularity_. Very, _very_ aggressively."

"Nuke," Kasumi repeated with a nod, as if Liara had confirmed her original statement. "Mushroom cloud. Nuclear winter. Starvation. Survivors in rags fighting with golf clubs and sharp sticks over the last remaining Twinkies."

Unseen and coming from behind Sarah, a voice weakly sounded from the interior of the car.

"Did the car stop? I need to throw up now, please," whimpered Kelly Chambers.

* * *

Miranda's omni-tool chimed quietly. Her secured inbox, from Cerberus Command. After a moment's hesitation - and a slight increase in her pulse rate - she opened it, sending a glance first at the back of Joker's head.

[`S D6Q#6=H2 ()6#^$'(2GSK C9+3[/8EG$J -Y~`BY)V[5"F %~H{L)F7E8C2 Y$[]&[JJ} QY[(U$~"^N6J S+})M6GQ23]N "4L^45S}]S4C L*Z E{=R]= F]

[-DECRYPTING-]

[Operative Lawson;]

[Proceed to assist Trebin colony at once.]

[-Cerberus Command]

"_What?"_, the _Normandy_ XO breathed.

[/reply Command;]

[Shepard and several operatives are currently _not_ onboard and are engaged in hostile action. Departure would be mission-disastrous.]

[/Miranda]

[-ENCRYPTING-]

[+$*7M5/= N35VH67D V2U+P=LS #-EA4NZ= X*$_SNGN TH3L~5_R LKRQM&=G P4$KRG R WZ5FUNST P2XK" EV 65+E+T+S C=39DUQV]

[-TRANSMISSION FAILURE-]

"What in the bloody _hell_," she hissed, pushing herself to her feet angrily. Ignoring Joker's stare and arched eyebrow, she ran down the command hall at full tilt, her hair bouncing behind her in her haste.

"Jacob!" she barked into her omni-tool as she rushed past the startled CIC personnel, "Belay the order to disembark the Normandy! Stand by."

* * *

With slow, but deliberate steps, Kolyat crept down the center of the hallway, following the red smears of blood on the expensive carpet. On occasion, another occupant would be peering out of their door, curious at the commotion on their floor, followed by the tremendous explosion outside. A glare from the icy-faced drell drove them back inside, followed by the sound of locks being re-engaged.

Kolyat knew that stealth was rather pointless. If the target he was stalking was who he _thought_ it was, sneaking up on him would be nearly impossible regardless of the quality of the attempt. As he followed the sporadic spots of blood, he passed by a pair of broken and discarded crimson-red sunglasses.

Kolyat made it around two corners and over fifty meters of distance before he heard the sound of the breathing. Wet, shallow, and distressed. He was in time to see a leather-shoed foot being dragged into the elevator, and he moved forward to slap his hand on the edge of the door as it tried to close.

On the floor, the other drell tensed, which caused him to go into a strangled coughing fit that had him curl up into a ball of agony. Kolyat watched, impassively, until the spasm passed. The drell on the floor propped himself up on one elbow and rolled over to his side, so as to finally see who had stopped the door. Wiping his bloody mouth, to perhaps gain back a small measure of dignity, he turned his face and two pairs of black eyes met.

A long, silent moment passed, broken only by the sound of Thane's distressed breathing. After a moment, he coughed again and started to speak - only to twitch and stiffen.

"_A simple audio call. I lacked the courage to even see her eyes. One job was finished, another accepted. I'd not be returning home. Her voice contains disappointment, but not surprise. Ashamed that I met her expectations. Background noise. Kolyat is crying. She raises him...alone."_

With a start, Thane shook himself from the verbalized memory, blinked, and returned his gaze to the one standing over him. His only child. His son.

"So," Kolyat Krios murmured. "It _is_ you."

Without another word, he drew his long, jet-black dagger - still stained with batarian blood.

He stepped inside, and the elevator doors closed behind him.

* * *

Her Barrier providing a low-friction defense against the stonework of the path, Vasir skidded for a few meters before rolling to her feet, cursing Vakarian's limitless range. Slowly, but surely, he was wearing down her powerful, but slow-recovering, shields. Using the leftover inertia from her fall, she rolled to her feet and bolted into the cover of the underground walking tunnel - noting that her support team had finally arrived. They streamed around her as she directed them past with pointing and waving. "Suppress them!"

_Shepard will find a way past them, the reckless idiot. Divide and conquer._

Vasir tapped her comm again. "Where's the transport? Update."

"_Nearly onsite. Less than a minute."_

"Stop when you're close enough to see the battlefield. Wait for my signal, do not engage until instructed!"

"_Yes ma'am."_

For thirty seconds, she waited. There was gunfire and small explosions, as well as chaotic radio chatter as her forces took losses - as expected. A brilliant glow bathed the entire area as the sound of a skycar passed overhead, the blue light spilling into the tunnel and illuminating the Spectre in the reflections, followed by the unmistakable sounds of heavy biotic use - a powerful adept had joined the field. Perhaps T'Soni had caught a second wind and-

A flash of light and an ear-shattering explosion made her flinch, even as Shepard flew into view, skidding on the plates of his armor on the path's stonework and crashing into a wall inside the tunnel.

"Now!" she snapped into her comm, and took up retreating again.

She knew he would follow.

* * *

_Blind._

_I'm blind!_

Both hands clapped over her eyes, Jack rolled over to her stomach in the biotic-blasted remains of the grass and dirt. Blobs and swirls of out-of-focus and faded colors floated in her brain, seemingly disconnected from her vision. She took her hands away from her eyes, blinked, opened them widely and tried to focus on them.

Nothing. Blackness and dull colors.

"Oh fuck, _fuck_...no..nooo...I can't..." she moaned, barely audible to herself over the ringing in her ears as she pressed her face back into her hands.

Fighting unsuccessfully against a wave of panic, Jack tried to not think about the notion of being permanently disabled. Dying wasn't something she'd ever been especially terrified of - after all, everyone died in the end. She figured, considering her personal history, she'd already far outlived any reasonable expectation of her lifespan. But disabled? Weak, broken, and dependant on others? _Defenseless?_

Removing one hand from her face, she dragged her hand through the dirt and grass, feeling around and trying to locate her dropped shotgun. She needed to feel it in her hands.

She could never live in the darkness. Not again.

Jack needed to know that, at the very least, _this_ time she had the power to end it.

Dancing over and around dead and dying gray-armored mercenaries, Kasumi skidded to a halt beside a moaning Jack, lying in the dirt on her stomach, pressing her face into the crook of one arm, and cradling her Eviscerator shotgun against herself with the other. Alarmingly, she slowly rocked back and forth in what appeared to be great pain.

"Jack...hey...it's Kasumi," the thief said, kneeling down beside her and touching the biotic's back. Immediately, she stiffened at the contact, then pulled her knees up under herself.

"Help me up...can't see," she choked out, her voice constricted with apprehension. "I need...need to get out of here."

"Okay, I got you," the thief assured her while helping her to her feet, putting one of the convict's long, lanky arms around her own shoulders. Jack slumped against her - nearly collapsing into her for support - and under her hood, Kasumi's brow furrowed in concern.

"Jack?"

* * *

Parts of the memory were fuzzy and indistinct with the passage of time - it was before the guards had started their constant taunting about her developing body, and describing their betting pools of when they'd be allowed to rape her - so she'd peg her own age at eleven or twelve, perhaps younger. She'd done something to really piss the boss-man off, the hawk-nosed guy who everyone seemed to obey.

It was not so long after the surgeries - the indescribably horrible ones where they'd opened her entire back like a zipper made of flesh - that had installed the biotic amps she could feel crawling up her spine, like knots on a rope. They'd pumped her full of drugs while they impassively sliced her open with blades and lasers - not to sedate her, and not to kill the pain, but to stimulate her nervous system so that it was exceedingly difficult to pass out.

Agony was part of the programming, they'd explained to her calmly, as she'd shrieked and screamed into the gag that had been forced between her teeth. Twice, despite the precautions, she'd lost consciousness. Patiently, they'd revived her so that they could continue. In her mind, that day had lasted a lifetime.

Many sleep and meal cycles later - without the ability to witness the solar cycles, indeed, without knowing that such a thing existed outside of her artificial world - she'd recovered enough to warrant a personal visit from the hawk-nosed man. Her new biotic implants were safely set to a negative loop, not only disabled, but suppressing even the minimal biotic ability she had naturally. She was weak from the procedures, and stiff all over from her body's struggle to heal, from the pull of new scars.

His disgusting hands brushed a long bit of lank hair out of her eyes, and he'd stressed to her the value of _cooperation, _with his lizard-like smile that didn't touch his eyes. The exact words were lost.

She'd barely heard them at the time, anyway.

He'd felt safe. He saw a tiny girl, helpless. Covered in bandages and the stink of too much medi-gel.

His feeling of safety eroded rapidly when she'd seized his testicles through his medical scrubs, squeezing with every fiber of strength she'd been able to muster in her frail body.

Again, the words were lost to time, but she remember how she had screeched every single profanity that she had ever learned from the foul-mouthed guards, directly into his face - with such force that her spittle had sprayed his features.

After that, they'd decided to teach her a lesson. The one window she had in her room was polarized to absolute opacity. The hallway outside of her door was blacked out, and the power in her room disconnected. What followed was an indeterminate number of days when she was disconnected from her surroundings by even the right to see it.

To disallow her from knowing what time of day it was, every meal was the same, to break the pattern of breakfast-lunch-dinner. An unseen bowl scraped along the floor as it was pushed in from the darkened hall - a protein-rich bowl of unflavored paste, which she shoved into her mouth with dirty hands.

She didn't get the next bowl until she shoved the old one out when she was commanded to. Any little thing to show that they controlled her and could force an obedience.

She settled for counting the number of meals, in series of threes. Three was a day. Three was a single day. She didn't exactly understand what _a day_ was, but it seemed important to the guards, when she'd heard them talking about such things. Days were important. She would count them.

It wasn't long before her captors hit upon the same idea, and began to randomize the time at which the meals would appear. At times, she'd receive a second bowl while still feeling filled from the first - other times, she'd found herself empty and aching from hunger, rolling around in pain and wishing there was someone to hear her beg for food.

When the paste finally arrived, she remembered scraping it from the bowl with shaking hands - she couldn't see her hands, but when she sucked the slop from her fingers, her hands were trembling - before licking the bowl, desperately, like a dog.

A comparison she would think of, years later, when she learned about dogs and other pets. There were no animals in Teltin.

All for a bowl of glop that she didn't even know the color of.

On occasion, different voices would abruptly sound from the speakers in her ceiling - often when she was sleeping - demanding if she knew that they had turned the lights on. Asking her if she was sure if it was really dark, still, or perhaps she had gone blind.

Still, she counted them. In the complete darkness, thirty-nine bowls came and went.

Finally, she broke. Weeping, she screamed that she'd be good. She'd do what they said. _Just let me out of this room and turn the lights on._

That day, nearly blinded by the brightness of Teltin's arena, she was shoved into a concrete encirclement - her amps activated, a cocktail of drugs making her head spin. Through squinted eyes, narrowed against the pain from the light generated by her own biotics - Subject Zero killed her first human being.

A child.

The first of so very many.

* * *

At her side, the tattooed convict in the leather vest made a quiet whimper - something about _the lights_. Something about it made a shiver crawl up Kasumi's back.

"You ok, girl? Here, let me carry the artillery for you," Kasumi added quietly, taking the heavy shotgun from her hands. "Come on, nice and slow." Noting Jack's sunburned-looking skin at her front - at least on the flesh not concealed by copious amounts of ink - Kasumi defaulted back to light teasing.

"Jeez, did you blow yourself up again? This is just like Zorya when you and Garrus smoked that YMIR* mec-"

Kasumi's words trailed off as the whine of an incoming heavy vehicle approached. From the open side of the courtyard, opposite of Liara's building and where Sarah had hard-landed the car, a small industrial transport with a cargo flatbed was coming in hard and fast. Two pilots in gray armor were visible in the open cockpit, and they banked the vehicle aggressively. It came down in a low hover - and two YMIR mechs unfolded themselves and stood up from their stowed positions in the back.

"You have got to be _shitting_ me," the hooded woman muttered.

* * *

Tossing Shepard's dusty helmet in first, Garrus slid into the pilots seat of the red skycar the unknown drell had left hovering outside of Liara's window - complete with the _fun _sensation of stepping over the open space of a nine story drop. He didn't feel especially good about leaving Thane behind - wherever he'd gone off to - but Shepard dealing with that damned vanguard asari was the unquestioned priority. Slamming the door closed, he tapped his comm.

"Normandy, Garrus!"

"Normandy. Go." Joker.

"What's going on? Miranda cut me off." Leaning to his right, he peered down as best he could at the ground. _Not a lot of movement._

"Uh, possible Collector activity."

"_Spirits_, what?"

"I _know_. I think she's trying to clarify the situation...or something. She took off like her magnificent ass was on fire, to the comm room to chat with our diabolical overlords. I've been trying to reach Shepard, no response."

"I have his helmet here with me, and he's on foot pursuing _another_ Spectre who's gone rogue, so I doubt he'll be paying attention to his omni." Putting the skycar into motion, he went into a slow spiral straight down, feeling the need to check in on Liara's condition. The last he'd seen over her, she'd taken a charge from-

_Oh, there she is. And Kasumi. She's running away? No, she's joining up with Jack._

"Jesus, are all Spectres secretly bad guys other than Shepard?"

Despite the situation, Garrus felt his mandible twitch in an expression not unlike a smirk. "You mean the guy who took off and joined Cerberus?"

There was a pause. "Ugh, think the Council will just shitcan the whole program?"

Garrus glanced down-field where he was about to take the vehicle on a find Shepard excursion while the friendlies mopped up what was now a devastated courtyard - and his eyes widened as a new vehicle swooped in, deploying two YMIR heavy mechs. His eyes flicked to the center of the courtyard, where Kasumi and Jack stood in the open, without cover. Without hesitation, he put the car into an aggressive dive.

* * *

Fighting down every self-preservation instinct that told her to cloak up and maneuver away from danger, Kasumi instead turned an unresisting Jack about by her shoulders, pointing her in the direction of the unloading transport.

"Jack, sweetie," she said evenly, leaning in close to her ear, "_Shockwave_, or we're dead."

* * *

The farther he chased Vasir away from the courtyard - and the sounds coming from it that thundered like a full-blown war - the more dense the evening crowds became. Soon, he was weaving and ducking in between strolling asari who were recently off-work - either traveling home, or meeting with friends and co-workers to browse restaurants for the evening meal.

Ahead, he saw the purple armor of his target similarly forcing her way through the crowds with less subtlety - he could hear protests from her pushing and shoving, and angry complaining as he also passed them by.

After turning four corners to follow her wake, he passed under an official-looking municipal sign - bearing both elegant asari script, and a logo that looked like a train of sorts.

_Dammit!_

Awkwardly engaging his omni-tool as he continued at a half-run through the crowd, he yelled into the _Normandy's_ open channel.

"Shepard here! Chasing Vasir into a monorail or tram station! Less than a klick from Liara's building!"

"_Shepard, Normandy!" _He faintly heard Joker's voice reply over the noise of the masses all around him, but Shepard found an open patch in the crowd and broke into a sprint as he closed down the omni-tool. He was _not_ going to lose Vasir.

* * *

The ground rapidly rushed up to meet him, and Garrus felt himself clenching his fangs and mandibles as he braced for the impact of a hard deceleration. With seconds remaining, he could both hear and feel the unmistakable _whump-whump-whump_ of Jack's _Shockwave_ as it clawed at the ground, heaving huge clods of dirt into the air as it went as each pulse gained power - finally reaching a crescendo at the transport.

Both of the transport's pilots were tossed high and clear - Garrus had an instant to consider that Jack's deployment of her favoured attack must be one of the strongest in the galaxy - and one of the heavy mechs was caught with one "foot" still on the transport deck.

Both of the mechs, and the vehicle that had delivered them, heaved and bucked from the pockets of anti-gravity bursting into existence just below the ground - and the partially-dismounted YMIR went down, vanishing into the clouds of dirt illuminated by the lights of Garrus' vehicle.

His lights also illuminated the glossy, near-white lacquer of the remaining mech as it stomped forward, the arm-mounted autocannon raised and pointed at the two women he was just flying over.

In a single reckless instant, Garrus swerved, dove the vehicle hard, and threw himself out of the still-open driver's door.

* * *

"_Shepard here! Chasing Vasir into a monorail or tram station! Less than a klick from Liara's building!"_

After staring at her omni-tool and digesting Shepard's words, Sarah - still sitting in the skycar driver's seat and wondering exactly what to do with herself - looked over at the passenger seat next to her. Jack's backup weapon, the Predator handgun she kept at the small of her back, was still tangled up in the seat restraints from when she had forced herself out of the car - ripping off the passenger door and dropping out in free fall.

Making a decision, she reached over to seize the weapon - shoving it down handle-up between the seats to secure it before addressing the comm.

"Normandy, Sarah. EDI, send me the waypoint to the nearest tram station."

"_Uploading."_

"_Woah, Sarah. Careful, you're a non-com**, __ok?"_

"Relax, Joker. Just going to observe and track so we don't lose contact with him, alright? Someone can come along and assist when they're free."

With a creak of stressed metal, the now-battered skycar lifted off again, eliciting a groan from the back seat.

* * *

The sound of Lawson's trotting heels rang through the CIC as she hurried past them and up to the cockpit.

"It took me eight bloody minutes to get the Illusive Man on the quantum holo, and for the first time in my life, he had no idea what I was talking about. We've been hacked - I received a falsified message from Cerberus."

Joker nodded. "I know."

For a moment, she eyed him furiously. "_What the bloody hell are you talking about?"_

Joker rubbed a hand over his face. "EDI has determined the distress signal from Trebin is fake."

"Much of the data contained within the distress signal, including the data regarding the unknown contact, is precisely identical to that obtained at Horizon, when that colony initially issued the same."

Miranda blinked at the holographic orb. "That's hardly surprising - it's the same vessel. Or a different but nearly identical one."

"Agreed. However, the orbital sensor equipment providing the data would not be the same, in type nor location. Also, the telemetry of said vessel cannot be identical. Horizon and Trebin are, of course, not identical worlds and do not share identical gravitational masses, orbital speeds, atmospheric pressures, solar revolution velo-"

"It's a hacked-together copy-paste job from Horizon's data, is what she's saying," Joker cut in.

The pilot had to give her credit, the sudden reversal of the evidence at hand cost her only a half-second to process. "It was to freeze us. We'd not commit assistance to the surface with two different objectives...we've been _thoroughly_ compromised."

Not bothering to use the intercom to the close-by CIC, Miranda turned and raised her voice. "Goldstein! Our comm cyphers. Update them, immediately. _All_ of them," she punctuated with a jab of her finger. "Top priority goes to team comms planetside, followed by all _Normandy_-to-Cerberus tunnels. Move to stronger algorithms when possible. Have EDI assist you."

Jenny looked startled, but recovered quickly, nodding stiffly. "Aye, ma'am! It will take..."

"Just get started," Miranda said dismissively, re-seating herself at her holo-terminal. Unseen, she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her fingers, as if suppressing a wave of anxiety.

Peering back down the hall to the CIC, Joker caught a flash of movement as Jenny shot an upraised middle finger in the direction of her XO, before dutifully turning to her task.

Miranda's finger stabbed at her console. "Jacob, deploy. Radio silence until otherwise informed," she stated, curtly. The comm clicked twice in unspoken reply.

Joker adjusted his cap. "_Damn," _he muttered. "Stress. Gonna have catfights in the CIC soon."

"Jeff, I sincerely hope you are referring to a battle or duel waged using the hurling of feline projectiles as the weapons of choice, and not a derogatory term for an altercation between two women, often characterized as involving scratching, slapping, hair-pulling, and shirt-shredding-"

The _Normandy_ pilot blinked. "Uh..."

"-as that would be considered derogatory or belittling, and attempting to inappropriately sexualize, neutralize or trivialize legitimate disagreements amongst females based solely on their gender."

"Hey, hey! Look at my duty organizer. I'm scheduled to shut up right about now."

* * *

Kasumi - now a full step behind Jack from when the biotic had obediently jumped forward in the direction the thief had aimed her - jumped forward and dragged the biotic down to the ground as a skycar whizzed past them just overhead, to crash into the still-staggered YMIR mechs.

An instant later, the armored form of Garrus hit the ground just in front of them, rolling violently in a clatter. A split-second later, the tangled pile of smoke and metal that was two mechs, the car, and the transport exploded violently - at least one of the YMIR's had activated its self-destruct.

Even as bits of flaming, smoking debris rained down on them, Kasumi sat up, shielding her eyes - and met gazes with Garrus, who had pulled himself into a kneeling position, his clawed hands resting on his thighs. The turian first looked down at his battered, dirty, but functionally intact armor - and gave the thief a silent _did-you-freaking-see-that_ shrug.

"Damn," he muttered, "That worked?"

With a shake of her head, Kasumi gently pulled Jack to her feet again. "C'mon, girl, let's get out of here. You did awesome."

* * *

Forcing himself to slow his pace, Shepard stowed his Carnifex and calmed his breathing before stepping onto the last tram car without challenge - free urban public transport was one of the few universal amenities of Nos Astra. The station was immense - it occupied four floors worth of the building it resided in, nearly a kilometre above the inhospitably hot surface of Illium - and densely packed with the evening rush.

The N7 soldier was reluctant to cause alarm - a panicked stampede here could injure or kill hundreds.

The car was filled with nearly a hundred people - nearly entirely asari - with four rows of tightly-packed seats, and overhead rails beyond that for overcapacity. Despite the economy-style density of the seating, the windows were tall and curved up into the ceiling, creating the illusion of open, airy luxury. The asari here were attractive and stylishly dressed - the middle class of Illium. The actual wealthy and powerful would never be caught outside of anything but private transport.

Despite the density of the passengers, he instantly locked eyes with Vasir. The armored Spectre was nearly a head taller than those around her, and surrounded by those largely in business clothing her gleaming purple armor made her impossible to overlook. Her back to the wall, she was holding herself steady with one gauntleted hand on the overhead rail - reaching up and over a much shorter asari in a short-sleeved yellow jacket to do so.

The civilian asari made a comment and laughed quietly - a stranger joking over a shared annoyance. Vasir chuckled with her, the smile never reaching her eyes, and her gaze never leaving Shepard.

Slowly and politely, drawing minimal attention to himself - as much as possible as an armored human male could do in this particular crowd, apologizing along the way to the asari he nudged into each other - he sifted through the occupants of the coach and made his way toward Vasir. The asari Spectre widened her smile as he approached, seemingly delighted in his boldness to shadow her so closely.

Just as he arrived at her - nearly close enough to touch, pressed in by the multitude of shifting passengers as the monorail surged into motion - she smiled widely and reached out to his face. He suppressed a flinch as she gently wiped her thumb over the corner of his mouth, smearing the bloody line running down his chin from the cut she'd inflicted there, when she'd punched him at the fountain, earlier.

"How was work, dear? You look like you had a rough day," she purred, her eyes flashing with equal amounts of feigned seductiveness and predatory threat. Leaning in, she ghosted a kiss on his left cheek, away from the asari in the yellow. "See all these people? Try anything cute, and I will go on a biotic rampage in here like you've never seen," she whispered close to his ear.

Turning his head in at the same time, he purposely brushed his own lips over her ear fold. "You'd be surprised at what I've seen. Hell, I'm taking a biotic rampage out for pizza, later."

As they separated, he gave her a cold grin in return and was pleased to see she had lost some of her certainty in the face of his confusing flippancy. _Point for me._

The other asari, close enough to them it was practically a three-person hug, looked back and forth between them, taking in their overall builds, stowed weapons, and their heavy hardshell armor. "Oh, you two are together? Did you meet in some private security force?"

Shepard turned his head to face the curious asari, although his silver eyes never left Vasir's. "Yes. A few years ago we worked for the same organization. _She_ recently jumped ship to a competitor. It's caused a little...tension, but we're working it out." Around them all, alternating light and darkness flashed as the monorail sped its way around and through other buildings - the illumination from office windows and commercial advertisements flew past them at speed.

Even as Vasir narrowed her eyes at him, the asari in yellow chuckled. "Well, that's good. You're certainly a handsome couple. Always wanted to, um, give humans a spin," she added, pointedly looking Shepard up and down. Not for the first time, he had to remind himself that - in years past - Liara's lack of social assertiveness was an aberration among her kind. "Good for you, by the way," she added, grinning at Vasir.

Tela nodded without smiling. "Oh, yes. He's quite the catch. In fact, he's the golden boy at that old organization he mentioned. And to think, many of us were surprised that he even got the job in the first place."

It was Shepard's turn to narrow his eyes. "Don't be jealous, dear. In fact, there might still be room for you to come back. We have...a big event coming, and with your skills...well, it's clear that we could use everyone possible." The interior of the coach darkened as the monorail flatted out from a long, shallow dive, entering an underground tunnel that led away from the center of Nos Astra to one of its residential sub-zones.

Vasir's lips set into a more firm line. "I don't see that happening, _dear_. I don't have a lot of respect for the current management, and some people doubt that this _big event_ will even happen."

The asari in yellow let her eyes flicker between them, waving one hand dismissively. "Oh, don't argue over career stuff. In the long run, who cares? My bondmate and I used to bicker about work, but...your relationship and family is the important, lasting thing. And judging by you two, I bet you'll have positively _enormous_ children someday to worry about, anyway," she teased, unaware of the conversation subtext.

Vasir blinked, and her trace of a grin showed genuine amusement this time. "She's right, John. Let's not forget that this is really all about _us_, right now." Reaching out, she put a hand on his shoulder plate, and leaned in again in a repeat of her earlier kissing gesture. "I think it's adorable that you're still chasing me. You _do_ know I'm far more powerful than you, right?" she murmured.

Not knowing her game, he chose to not break character and put one hand at the back of her waist, just enough to make it look like an embrace of sorts. "So far, you've jumped me twice with sneak attacks. At the next stop, why don't we step off and maybe I'll show you what I can do?" He slightly raised his voice for the last of his words, and the asari in yellow made a humming noise of amusement and approval.

The monorail, now traveling in excess of one hundred kilometers per hour, burst out of the tunnel with a _whoosh_, and began crossing a long, low bridge that spanned a shallow river. Even in the fading, violet light, rocks of all sizes could be seen poking up and out of the lazy flow of water.

He felt Vasir chuckle as she wrapped her arm around him and drew him into an embrace, their armor clacking together as she stayed close to continue the private conversation, even as the other asari beamed at them. "Shepard, look around at the people on this train. What do you see?"

Not knowing why, the N7 commando felt a tickle of alarm at the question. "Middle-class people. Working people. Why?"

"Do you know what I see? _Witnesses._ And a very, _very_ good diversion for first responders." Abruptly, she leaned back away from him, taking the one full step she had room for. "If I were you, I'd max out my shields right now." Her grin went wide and cold, and he could feel his skin tingle as her biotics flared to life, even before he saw the glow.

Beside them, the asari in the yellow jacket lost her smile.

* * *

[-ENCRYPTION UPDATED-]

_Fuck, finally._

"Normandy, Patel."

_"Read you five, Sarah. Good to hear you're ok."_

Despite the situation and the stress from the combat zone they just gone through, Sarah felt a tingle of pleasure at Joker's response.

_Oh, get over yourself, schoolgirl. He'd have said that to half the crew, in your place._

"We're holding position above the rail station. No visual on-"

"Whoop!" Kelly chirped from the back seat, "Look!"

"Uh, Normandy, we have a train leaving." Sarah reported, tracking the monorail as it snaked below them and began to weave amongst the skyscrapers on its suspended path.

"Hold," Joker said, and the comm fell silent for several seconds.

_"EDI reports that it's the first train that's left in the last ten minutes, and another won't for fifteen more. Shadow it. Second shuttle is enroute to support you."_

"Roger that," Sarah replied, nosing the skycar into a shallow dive.

* * *

"Normandy, Patel."

_"Go."_

"Lost visual. Subterranean tunnel. Need a schematic for Kelly's omni."

_"On it. Sending schematic to both of you."_

From behind her there was an orange glow as the yeoman activated a live-feed of a holo-map. "Um, ok. Ahead 800 meters then we'll bank right."

"On it," the pilot reported as she accelerated forward, dodging the commercial building of Illium's capital.

"Hope Jack and Kasumi are ok," the redhead said, just loudly enough to be heard over the wind rushing in from the missing door. Sarah glanced in the mirror and saw Kelly's orange hair flipping about madly in the gusting air.

"They'll be fine. All the operatives are really capable, right? They're smart, skilled, and tough. Nobody's killing those guys." The skyscrapers were thinning out and they were hitting open air, now.

"Mm," the yeoman hummed to herself. "That's what I would have said about Grunt."

Sarah didn't have an answer for that. Instead, as she glanced out of the open side of the car, she saw the last gasps of the setting sun, leaving a panorama of slashes of deep purple sky and thin razors of black cloud. "Wow." _That's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen._

Kelly followed her eyes. "Yeah. You'd never guess what Illium is _really_ like, with virtual slavery and that kind of thing. It's so...gorgeous."

With effort, Sarah tore her eyes away. "Hey, that bridge ahead...our train going there?"

Kelly shook her head and went back to her scrolling holo. "Yes, any sec-"

"There it is."

"Sweet. Normandy, Patel."

_"Normandy. Go."_

"Re-acquired visual. Monorail is crossing a br-"

"Wait, what's...?" Kelly interrupted.

Sarah looked out her side window, and for an instant, saw a blue glow erupt from the inside of the last monorail coach. Starting at the forward edge, it grew in intensity rapidly, sending beams of blue lights from the windows-

With a pulsing _thrum_ that the two women felt in their bones from a distance exceeding hundred meters, the speeding coach-car's leading edge jumped into the air. Disconnecting from the rest of the train, its high rate of speed caused it to catch enough air that - even as it decelerated - it was lifted to nearly vertical. The coach-car did a partial roll before it crashed back down onto its own track, now on its side and twisted so that its ends hung out into open space.

Like a stick snapped over a knee, the coach snapped in two with a shower of bright yellow sparks, as the mangled metal continued to grate along the track at high speed.

For a sickening instant the two observing women saw dozens of asari bodies falling from broken vessel - spilling from it from it like sand from a broken bottle. Some of the forms twinkled in blue light, having survived the initial impact and being conscious enough to attempt biotic use to save themselves.

Most quickly winked out out as they slammed into the rocks and water, or into the track supports.

"Oh, my God!" Kelly screeched, as Sarah's mouth fell open in horror.

Both halves of the car tumbled from the bridge, fell in silence, and splashed into the dark, shallow water below.

* * *

The water woke him.

_Didn't it?_

It was hard to think.

His mind was full of sand.

The flash of light.

The crushing force of _away_.

Gravity. Screwed up. Up was down. Down was nowhere.

Bodies, shoes, _stuff_ flying everywhere. He'd slammed into the ceiling, in a pile of blue limbs.

The sound of them snapping.

Screams.

From the lights of the car, there was sudden darkness when the coach split open, and he was flying.

An instant of memory.

The _Normandy_.

Cut open like a can. Exposed to space.

He'd watched the debris of his home float away slowly, almost peacefully, dark against the whiteness of Alchera - knowing some of the debris was human remains that would never be found.

Now. The water. He sputtered and set his hands into the mud, just under the surface, and leveraged himself to his hands and knees. His face went from cool and wet to hot and wet. The slow-flowing water barely reached mid-forearm, and he watched his blood drip into it.

No. Shouldn't be able to see this. It was dark.

The blood swirled in the water, bathed in a blue light.

Blue light.

Shepard shoved himself to his knees, reached behind himself, and the Carnifex filled his hand. For an instant, he saw her - water lapping at her ankles as she approached. Wreathed in power. She had...her omni-tool out?

The handgun swept up.

A blue-white sun exploded in his mind.

* * *

_Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee !_

A flashing red alarm lit up the left side of Joker's face, and his head snapped towards it. One of the holo-screens that he had enabled only while docked - listing biological vital signs data from the omni-tools of the ground team - displayed a normally uneventful feed at all times. Now, one name flashed red for a moment before turning gray.

**[Shepard, John - status - cardiac arrest]**

**[Shepard, John - status - offline / no data]**

"What the fuck," he breathed, as a cold ball dropped into his stomach.

"Commander Shepard's omni-tool and armor sensors are both offline, immediately following an intense power spike."

The pilot turned in his chair to look down the command hall. Aside from matching audio alarms, the CIC was stunned into silence.

"There! I just saw Shepard in that flash of light, down in the water!" Kelly blurted, her neck craned and her forehead pressed against the window as she looked almost straight down. "There's...I think an asari is attacking him! Oh, God. I...he's down!"

Sarah hissed an expletive through her teeth, and pushed the skycar into a sharp dive.

Vasir watched impassively as Shepard flopped and spasmed, the fading energy arcs of her tech _Overload_ still crawling over him. Half-submerged, his armour _clacked_ repeatedly against a rock under his back.

Finally, with a final jerk, Shepard arched up into a bow - his face a tight rictus, his teeth bared and his eyes bulging - froze for a long moment, and fell back into the shallow water.

* * *

_Adrift in a sea of light._

_Or, perhaps it was fire._

_He could taste it. Burning. That taste from when he'd knelt in the hot sand beside Tali, watching her do an emergency weld on the Mako's steering strut. A white-hot arc of plasma melting together stubborn alloys._

_That memory._

_The smell, the flavor of smoke and metal. It was real._

The first indication that he was still alive, ironically, came from one of his inorganic implants. The vision of his left eye went from white to black, and a rolling list of diagnostic data began to crawl up one side of his vision.

Sound returned from his right ear. He was greeted by the sound of the distant, layered screaming of dozens of critically injured asari - the sound of crackling fires, pain, and misery.

The sound of footsteps in water, getting closer.

In the distance, the first hint of sirens.

"Vasir here, Remus. I'll be heading downstream away from the commotion, look for me up on the south shore," Vasir's voice said, from above.

"_Understood."_

"Nice handgun, Shepard. Heh, this is...pretty big. Compensating for something?" He could not feel her take it from his hand. "You think _Lazarus_ was free from leaks to the Broker, Shepard? He knows what you are, and how to take you down. Just _'load_ you like a fucking Geth and down you go, robot-boy."

The sound of a skycar, rapidly pulsing as it decelerated.

A splash of water.

A door.

"Get away from him!" A woman's voice, high and tight with tension.

Gunshots. One, two, three. Rapid succession. Small arms. A handgun.

The throbbing sound of biotic barriers absorbing rounds.

A single blast in return. Much louder. His own Carnifex.

A scream, high, thin, and long.

It repeated, breathlessly.

And again.

"Damn, Shepard. That actually hurt my wrist. I'm keeping this thing, if you don't mind."

He was only distantly aware that she was picking him up, and easily slinging him over one shoulder in a fireman's carry. There was a gentle rocking motion as she walked away.

"I have to hand it to your crew," Vasir continued, conversationally, "They _are_ brave. Stupid, but brave. Anyway, we need to get going."

_Fight. Do something._

His limbs were no longer his.

The sound of distant sirens slowly faded.

As did the screams of Kelly Chambers.

* * *

Joker's head, again, snapped back to the vital signs display.

_Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee !_


	49. Scattered Pieces Lay

_Even before I closed the holo, I'd averted my eyes. Irikah's gaze had defeated me once again, with an ease that makes mockery of my profession._

"Stop! Right here. Your payment."

_When one wanders constantly - passing between stars, systems, and cultures - it is easy to slip into a timeless fugue state. The passage of days, seasons, years - all meaningless._

"This is far more than..."

"Keep it. Forget you saw us. Drive away."

_But not for them. They experience the passing of long days and nights of empty stillness, my absence a festering sore._

"A private room. Direct me to one and summon an emergency physician to it."

"You can't just burst in here with-"

"I can and I have. The _room_."

"We don't treat _drell_ who simply walk in without money. This isn't a charity, and we've not processed y-"

"Stop talking, I have no interest in your racist undertones, only the expediency in which you can perform your job - Liara T'Soni has terms here, and she will be most interested in your response thus far. Now show me the damned room, before I commit _an act of violence_ _upon your face._"

"I...see. Follow me."

_I am a slave by choice. My recent ancestors made the determination that life was better than death - a common preference - and chose that option over perishing on a dying world. I cannot say I would have done differently._

_Our debt to the Hanar is one of gratitude. And it is genuine, without question._

_But it is still a debt._

"I am Dr. Liss'dra. Put him here. Symptoms beyond the obvious puncture injury?"

"That isn't the injury, that was my hasty field-treatment. Ribcage crushed on one side, and he has Kepral's Syndrome in what appears to be moderate to advanced state - he was suffocating. I made an incision between two of his ribs and pulled outwards to allow the lung some freedom from the pressure, followed by medi-gel to provide some basic structure. I was only moderately successful."

_I could walk away from this - walk away from those who preserved us from a deserved and self-inflicted extinction - but my heart would not allow that._

"Quick thinking. Crude, but good. Hmm, he's muttering to himself, constantly," the voice continued, quieter, thinking out loud. "I've heard of detailed, involuntary memory episodes, or is he simply hallucinating?"

"Perhaps. He has said...nothing of meaning. Ignore it."

"His name? I very rarely have the opportunity to treat drell, and I'd like to investigate his medical hist-"

"No, do what you can with what you know. As for his name...make something up. And he is _turian_, do you understand?"

_Why, then, does it allow for me to abandon my loved ones? Duty and honor - they must be a kind of insanity._

"Excuse me?"

"This credit chip is authorized for up to two hundred thousand. He does not exist in your records, nor do I. This is for your own protection. He has many enemies and his existence here would endanger all of you. Trust me on this point, if nothing else. I'm leaving."

_The moment you put yourself into the path of my scope - I didn't know my life was about to be changed forever. I was about to be saved - I would be more than a weapon. I would be a man._

_Your life was about to change, also._

_It would be ruined._

_I often thought of how your life would have been, if y__ou would have simply walked away. Not involved yourself. Continued to the life you'd have otherwise had._

"Wait! How do we reach you?"

"You won't. He will either walk out of here on his own, or not at all. Either way, I'm not required."

_You took my soulless body - and breathed your life into it. I was born when I met you._

"He means so little to you? Why bother to bring him here, and provide for the expense?"

_I loved you. I _love_ you. Wait for me, I will return to you, at last. It will not be long._

"Yes, he _does_ mean so little. And, he is my father."

* * *

The holo-images of the expressionless salarian, the dismissive turian, and the frustrated human faded, and the elegantly-dressed asari leaned back in her plush office chair with a strained sigh. Gently massaging her temples, she allowed herself a rare, private moment of a display of exhaustion.

Councilor Tevos lamented, yet again, that her lot in life was dominated by circular arguments, shameless racism, and species self-interest in political power, military advantage, and economical profit. The fact that she knew she was as guilty of this as any was cold comfort.

Simply _agreeing_ on something, _anything_, would be _such_ a refreshing change.

Providing it didn't harm asari interests, of course.

_Goddess. There I go. No wonder we can't accomplish anything, except pull each other in opposing direct-_

"_Councilor Tevos, ma'am. Excuse me, but I have an incoming call I've been holding for you." _The tinny-sounding voice from her desk comm was - despite her affection for her personal assistant - absolutely the last thing she wanted to hear right now.

Opening her eyes, and leaning back in her chair with a sigh, the asari council representative stared at the ornately tiled ceiling of her luxurious Citadel office. "I'm finished for today, Neota. Whatever it is, it can wait - I have no more appointments."

_"I know, ma'am. This is...I apologize. It is unusual. I have an incoming call from an individual, a human female. Supposedly regarding Spectre involvement, and the caller says it is urgent. Ma'am, this is on one of our unpublished diplomatic channels."_

Tevos blinked. _That_ got her attention. Leaning forward, she stared at her terminal with narrowed eyes, watching the decryption display of the audio connection to her assistant, just outside. "Spectre-level issues are never to go to a single councilo-"

The voice of her assistant dropped to half of her original volume. _"She specified contact directly to you, ma'am, and asked that I inform you that her name is 'Miranda Lawson'. I do not have an entry for her in our diplomatic databa-"_

In the back of Tevos' mind, an alarm sounded."I know who she is," she interrupted sharply.

_The lead officer of Shepard's Cerberus-provided crew. Listed as the most likely director of Cerberus' project that...resurrected / cloned / constructed Shepard. Serving as the lead Cerberus liaison aboard his new Normandy. And she's calling upon me. At my personal office._

Tevos took a long moment to consider the political damage she might incur from even _connecting _to this channel.

"_Ma'am?"_

The councilwoman slowly rose, placed both of her hands to the small of her back, and turned to face her main screen. "Put her through - and this never happened, do you understand?"

"_Clearly, ma'am."_

* * *

As she queued up a task list for Cypher's data center, Liara tried to find a comfortable seating position - made impossible by her battered body. The rear seat of a skycar belonging to a private security firm provided a small bubble of calm amidst chaos.

As flashing blue emergency lights strobed over her and the vehicle interior, Liara responded to the silent buzz in her omni-tool with a quick series of commands to allow for the multi-stage encryption updates that Normandy communications now required.

Turning her head, she peered at the glass just beside her - watching the droplets of a new, light rain fall against it and blur the outside world. If she were to open the door, the sounds of a disaster scene would return - the shouts and orders of response teams, the cracking of fires, and the screams of the injured. The young asari closed her eyes, leaned back in the faux-leather seat with a quiet groan, and kept the door tightly closed.

She could do little to help - in the short time since she and Garrus had left her building to give chase to Shepard's reported location, her injured body had stiffened considerably. The blow she had sustained from Vasir's biotic charge made every movement and breath an ordeal of discomfort.

With a chirp of completion, and a glow that illuminated the interior of the skycar, a holo-window appeared above her wrist. Liara reluctantly sat a bit higher - and met eyes with her unlikely ally.

"Miranda," she said simply, unable to keep fatigue from her voice.

The raven-haired woman nodded curtly in reply. "T'Soni. I have her - I can't say she was happy to communicate with me, but she didn't cut me off, either. Technically, the _Normandy_ is currently a Council Spectre mission-vessel, so I suppose that got me something."

Liara nodded. "If nothing else, the Council may have learned to not completely dismiss a situation involving Shepard, without at least listening first."

The full, pale lips of the Cerberus operative flattened into a bitter line. "Good to know a few thousand human lives got us a_ listen_."

"Mir-"

"Patching her through." Without another glance, the human distorted and faded away - to be replaced by the visage of the public face of Liara's entire people.

Councilor Tevos blinked in surprise, and leaned closer, causing the image to zoom in to her face closely.

"Liara T'Soni? You vanished shortly after-" Tevos had the good grace to stop herself from continuing. "Well. Here you are. I understand that you run a startup in the information business on Illium. The last time I saw you, I was placing a medal around your neck."

Exhaustion and untended injuries overrode Liara's sense of diplomacy, and her eyes hardened. "Yes, the ceremony - I remember it well. It was shortly before the Council began their campaign of disinformation to obscure the truth of the near-disaster that had just occurred."

The Councilor leaned back in her expensive chair, her face betraying nothing. "Strategic policy of the council isn't-"

Gritting her teeth, Liara mentally wrestled herself back into control even as she lifted one hand in apology. "Of course - forgive my outburst, Councilor. If you'll indulge me for a moment, I must deliver unpleasant news."

Not wanting to waste additional time, Liara decided the direct approach was best. "Spectre Tela Vasir made a planned and supported attempt on my life this evening," she stated carefully, expecting an outburst. Shockingly, none was forthcoming - and after a pause, Liara proceeded with some degree of confusion. "Immediately after failing in the attempt, she fled away from myself, Shepard, and Garrus-"

"Garrus, as in Vakarian?" interrupted Tevos. "We'd lost track of him, as well."

The mention of him drew Liara's eyes to outside the skycar window, into the flickering blue and orange light. Some distance away - amongst the fires that provided areas of light in the darkness, tarp-covered bodies, and the bustle of yelling, pointing emergency crews and their vehicles - Garrus sat at the lip of the cargo floor of a medical shuttle.

He'd returned in a furious mood, emerging out of the darkness and back into the flickering glow of flames, as the blackened remains of the tram burned unchecked. After tracking Vasir's footprints - heavy and deep with the burden she carried - they had vanished in a clearing, ending with the ground depressed in the shape of a landed shuttle.

Now, though, one arm was gently draped over frail shoulders, as he comforted the attractive redhead who was Shepard's administrative assistant on the _Normandy_ bridge.

_Kelly? Yes._

The Cerberus crewman's casual clothes were ruined beyond saving - visible even under the blanket that had been pulled around her shoulders, her white blouse was soaked to her skin with both fresh drizzle and congealing gore. An asari in a white medical tech uniform knelt before her, wiping gently at the blood on her face and neck after pressing a bottle of water into her hands. Next to the EMT, another asari in police uniform stood, bent forward at the waist and asking questions.

Even at distance, Liara saw the wide-eyed numbness in Kelly's face as she answered monosyllabically, often with Garrus helpfully providing additional detail. The police officer nodded, suppressed her omni-tool, and strode away to interview other witnesses and survivors. Garrus spoke a few words to the medical tech, who nodded and rose, also moving off to presumably assist elsewhere.

Once alone, the turian sniper leaned in close and spoke against the smaller human's ear. In response, she slumped and leaned in closer - pressing against him like he was shelter from a terrible storm. Silently, Liara watched as he gently reached up and plucked a small, hard, white fleck from her blackened, matted hair. Distantly, Liara cringed as she realized what it was - a fragment of bone, torn from the skull of the _Normandy's_ co-pilot that had accompanied the Cerberus yeoman.

Liara pulled her name from her mental list of Shepard's crew that she had so keenly investigated. _Sarah Patel. From Benning. Her parents are mid-level management for a shipyard contractor._

Kelly's emerald-green eyes stared, unblinking and shimmering in the firelight, at one tarp-covered body in particular amongst the haphazard rows of dozens - one that was grotesquely stained dark where the head would normally be.

Liara wrenched her attention back to the waiting Councilor. "Y-yes," she stammered, bringing one bandaged hand to her face and rubbing her blackened eyes. "Garrus is with me. Vasir escaped us - only Shepard kept up with her through the battlefield. There were over a dozen soldiers with her, and mechs. There was a well-funded trap in wait for us."

On the screen, Tevos peered at her for a moment, her expression softening. "I see you didn't escape unscathed," she murmured, before looking away at what Liara guessed was a different screen. "Am I receiving bad news, shortly? I see emergency lights in the background."

Liara nodded wearily. "The media is only now arriving. The news should be out shortly - there has been a...major incident with a commuter monorail. There appear to be dozens of casualties. We lost the trail on Vasir and Shepard here, as well. Councilor, Garrus and I are being detained for questioning, as we were both involved in the conflict that led to this - and we did not wish to resist and cause more trouble than we needed to. But, Councilor, we need to continue the pursuit of Shepard. This is why I arranged contact with you-"

"You know full well that Illium is outside of any official Council author-"

"Councilor," Liara interrupted firmly, "I did not reach out to the Council. I reached out to _you_. You have been in a position of great political authority amongst our people for over fifty years - and you have a great many _understandings_ and _unspoken agreements_ in place here. If you wish, I can go into greater detail, but I'm not entirely confident in the security of this transmission..." The asari information broker allowed the remainder of the thought hang in the air.

* * *

"Can we give her a break? I'll stay with her."

The asari medical tech nodded and tossed the bloody cloth in her hand into a biowaste bag, rising to her feet and stripping off her disposable gloves. As she moved away, Garrus squeezed the shoulder of the Normandy's yeoman seated next to him in what he hoped was reassurance.

"You did great, Kelly," the turian said, his voice rough with harmonics of sympathy. "Without you, we'd not even know for certain that they were on this train at all." Not knowing what else to look at, his eyes were drawn to one of the covered bodies that lay all about them, where a flash of color drew his eye. A slender blue arm stuck out from under the cloth, clad in a short-sleeved yellow garment.

Bent forward with her elbows resting on her knees, and the blanket around her shoulders like a shroud, the redhead stared at her bare feet as they rested on the cool rocks, next to the heeled dress shoes that she'd kicked off. "We didn't know for sure they were, either, until..._this_ happened. It just...lit up with that blue light and...broke open. Like smashing a glass jar. And the pieces fell. These people just spilled out of it...it was _so awful_. _How could she do that in the middle of all those people?_" she choked. "Some of them were biotics, too, and I saw them light up - but they didn't have enough time...I saw them hit the rocks...the light stopped when..."

"You don't have to do this-"

"She was so _brave_, Garrus. Sarah landed the car so hard I bumped my head on the roof," Kelly sniffed again, wiggling her pale toes in the cold, wet sand and almost smiling. "And then she was out and yelling...and I could see Shepard, but his armor...his armor was smoking and he was lying face-down in the water...and then Sarah was shooting...and then...a really loud shot...and her _head exploded all over me_," she whispered, barely managing the words.

Silently, Garrus was thankful for the light rain - he found the odor of human blood to be especially unpleasant, and Kelly had been liberally doused with it. Her normally-orange hair had been matted down on the right side, black and sticky. Now, the water was slowly washing it away - running rusty brown down the side of her face and neck, and streaking one lightly freckled cheek.

"Vasir won't get away with it, Kel," the sniper assured her quietly, bending low and speaking quietly next to her ear. "Nobody on the team will rest until-"

The closing of the police skycar's door caused him to look up, and he saw Liara striding back towards them with haste. "Garrus, it is done. For the next full day cycle, you have the temporary equivalence to diplomatic immunity from prosecution - which extends to myself or any _Normandy_ crew while they're with you. The authorities are being notified while we speak."

The turian blinked his deep-seated eyes, and looked from the asari to the human seated beside him. "Well, um, we should-"

Abruptly, Kelly picked up her shoes and stood, clutching the dampened blanket around herself with her free hand. "Go. Don't waste a second on me, I'll be ok here." She stepped away from them towards a tent structure - still being assembled, it was being erected for the survivors to take shelter in during the recovery and treatment operation - before she stopped and half-turned to peer at them with her reddened eyes. "Just...that asari, she _killed Sarah_. If you...kill her..." she shook her head helplessly, unable to finish, and left them.

Garrus removed his targeting eyepiece and shook the water from it. "She's a good, nice person - and so was Sarah, I think. The cynic in me supposes that Cerberus chose the crew for more than just competence."

Hands on her hips, Liara watched the human woman vanish into the tent. "I would agree - both the _SR-2_ and the crew aboard her are designed to appeal to his emotions and sense of duty. Giving him back some of what he's lost must be... irresistible."

The turian turned the glowing blue visor over in his hands as his eyes scanned over the wreckage and death all around them. "Ever wish you could dial back the last several hours and have a do-over?"

Liara heaved an exhausted sigh and sat in Kelly's place. "Yes. Many times. I have wished it so hard that it was nearly as real as...all of this."

After an uncomfortable silence, Garrus cleared his throat. "Tevos and immunity. Why me? You _live_ here. Respected business-person and all that - I bet you have an accounting firm on retainer named after five people."

While the turian stared straight ahead, Liara turned and observed his profile. "They already cleared you thoroughly, years ago. Tevos said there was an unsigned invitation to be a Spectre initiate in her desk, for one Garrus Vakarian. Dated back to...shortly after. After the _Normandy_-"

He shook his head, once, firmly. "No, it would have been a mistake. All I wanted was revenge on the whole galaxy. Kind of still do, sometimes."

Liara looked away from him, and towards two police officers as they led a bloodied and weeping asari to an ambulance. Even in the rain, there were still pockets of smoking or burning wreckage all around them. It looked like the aftermath of war. "I understand."

Now it was Garrus who glanced over, taking in her black commando armor, studded with weapons. "Yeah. I bet you do."

"Did you tell Shepard?"

The turian reattached his eyepiece. "Nah. He'd get all righteous about _holding me back_, or some nonsense. Spectres don't work in teams, so I'd be sent somewhere else and miss the really important bits. He always finds the prime quality trouble, that guy."

Finally, a hint of a smile pulled one corner of the asari's bruised mouth. "So very true. The officer in charge should have access to your clearance by now. You should go confirm that it is so, and we can be going."

"Considering the situation, you don't seem to be in much of a hurry."

Grimacing, Liara took a deep careful breath, wincing as her bruised ribs protested the effort. "Vasir is not going anywhere. If she attempts to flee the planet, the Normandy could follow her, easily."

"Thousands of ships leave Illium every-"

Liara took on a feral grin. "I monitored her from the time she arrived. I know what and where her vessel is - I already have a VI using a compromised hanger cam to watch over it."

"Spirits! What are we waiting for?" The turian jumped to his feet and jogged towards a gesturing officer in the distance who looked to be in charge.

After watching him go, Liara's eyes drifted down to a white case sitting on the rocks beside her booted feet. The medical case from the EMT. After glancing about, she stiffly reached down to snatch three stimms and a medi-gel tube, quickly shoving them into a hip pocket.

* * *

For what may have been the twentieth time since she'd stolen the skycar, Kasumi glanced into her rear-view mirror - tilted far down to allow her to see the occupant of the rear seat, laying prone upon it to occupy its full width.

"Jack? You with me?"

At the answering groan, the thief put her gaze to the mirror and held it - the lights of urban Nos Astra played over the car's interior and painted over the form of the biotic. Jack had gone from sitting - albeit hunched forward, her head nearly between her knees - to laying sideways across the rear seat, her hands covering her face and her legs curled up tightly to her chest.

Kasumi chewed her painted bottom lip, worried about the convict's increasing level of misery. When they'd staggered through the streets together - the smaller thief holding up the even more slender but taller biotic - Jack had been coherent, if clearly distressed, as she stumbled along. Now, she was alternating between mumbling and the occasional groan of misery, as she seemingly fell into the black pit of her own mind.

The _Normandy's_ professional burglar squinted against the light of other aircars as she aggressively dodged the busy nightlife traffic. "C'mon, talk to me...it's Kas..._out of the way, you idiot!_ Um, not you, Jack. You know, I would really appreciate some light conversation right about...now. _Who taught you to drive, you son of a...?!_ _Ugh._ So, yeah. 'Cuz if you're not up and talking, that means you're back there, freaking me out and harshing my buzz. Sooooo if you could get back to your old self - perhaps swear at me a bunch, wouldn't that be fun? - that would be really, _really_ fantast..._ahhhNO!_"

An already-hard bank around a blue-purple skyscraper revealed an oncoming cargo shuttle, and the evasive maneuver she responded with pressed her against her seat restraints - and with a sliding of cloth on leather, slipped the biotic from the rear bench-seat, where she hit the floor with a _thump _and a startled cry.

Kasumi released her held breath in a gasp. "_Shitshitshit!_ Sorry!"

"Wha...Kas? I..I can't see. I...I can't-" The convict's voice grated past a throat constricted with stress and fear.

"I know, babe! It's ok, you're ok. We're in a car and I'm taking you back to the shuttle we dropped off. Remember? I'll take you up to Dr. Chakwas. No strange hospitals or any-"

The omni-tool on her wrist silently vibrated. Reaching over with her free hand, she toggled it while weaving out of the way of a taxi.

"_Whoa!_ I mean. Um. Hi? Kasumi here!"

"_Kasumi, Normandy."_

"Look, I'm kinda busy, and not really swell with the official radio chatter with codes and acronyms, so...Tali, right?"

"_Yes. Where are you? I can't reach Thane, and Garrus is dealing with the authorities - I need a mobile presence, and I need it right now. Can you secure transportation?" _Kasumi was struck by the quarian's clipped and professional bearing - this didn't sound like the person that Garrus and Shepard had described during their mess-table _good-old-days_ adventure stories.

The thief did a partial barrel-roll to squeeze past a long, limousine-looking skycar. "Um, I'm in a 'car right now - flying like a stereotypical asian woman on a double espresso, to be perfectly honest."

There was a short pause before the reply came. _"I have no idea what you just...oh, nevermind. Enable position-tracking on your omni."_

_Stupid quarian - that was hilarious._ With a sigh, Kasumi toggled on her shared tracking feature. "Hey, wait a minute. Where's Miranda? Her, Joker, or EDI handle the comms norma-"

"_I'm in engineering, still, and she doesn't know I'm talking to you. I hacked an audio feed into the cockpit, and I just found out that Kelly communicated that Shepard was disabled and-"_

"What? _Disabled?_ What the fuck does that mean?" yelped Jack, springing forward from the rear seat so quickly that she nearly impacted the back of Kasumi's seat with her face. Glancing at the mirror again, the thief saw the biotic staring aimlessly at nothing.

"_-is in 'mid-recovery by enemy forces', as Miss Perfect described, before she took off to her office. Alright, your position is received - you're close. I'm diverting you. Sending you a coordinate n-"_

"Whoa, whoa! I have injured with me, Jack is..."

Behind her, Kasumi felt the convict seize her seat with both hands, and lean in closer to the audio feed coming from her driver's omni-tool. "Shut the fuck up! I'm not dying and I ain't bleeding out. I can _help_, even. Keep shields on you, or something. Fuck, I dunno! _Let's just go!_ Send the link, Bucket-head!"

"_Um. Right. Sent."_

* * *

FA 33 C0 BE D0 BC 00 7C 8B F4 50 07 50 1F FB FC BF 00 06 B9 00 01 F2 A5 EA 1D 06 00 00 BE BE 07 B3 04 80 3C 80 74 0E 80 3C 00 75 1C 83 C6 10 FE CB 75 EF CD 18 8B 14 8B 4C 02 8B EE 83 C6 10 FE CB 74 1A 80 3C 00 74 F4 BE 8B 06 AC 3C 00 74 0B 56 BB 07 00 B4 0E CD 10 5E EB F0 EB FE BF 05 00 BB 00 7C B8 01 02 57 CD 13 5F 73 0C 33 C0 CD 13 4F 75 ED BE A3 06 EB D3 BE C2 06 BF FE 7D 81 3D 55 AA 75 C7 8B F5 EA 00 7C 00 00 49 6E 76 61 6C 69 64 20 70 61 72 74 69 74 69 6F 6E 20 74 61 62 6C 65 00 45 72 72 6F 72 20 6C 6F 61 64 69 6E 67 20 6F 70 65 72 61 74 69 6E 67 20 73 79 73 74 65 6D 00 4D 69 73 73 69 6E 67 20 6F 70 65 72 61 74 69 6E 67 20 73 79 73 74 65 6D 00 00 00 00 00 00

[comment-initializing]

[comment-SUCCESS. FAIL/SUCCESS 931:1]

_init_begin = .;

. : { *.}  
. = ALIGN(16);  
_setup_start = .;

_setup_end = .;  
_initcall_start = .;

_initcall_end = .;  
. = ALIGN(964096);  
_init_end = .;

[comment-activation]

_What?_

Every sense blasted his consciousness all at once - a tidal wave of sensory input that made him recoil instinctively away from it, a gasp filling his lungs with cool, dry, mechanically-filtered air.

_...hot...sweltering like I fell asleep under ten blankets and woke up soaked in sweat...pain...shoulders and knees aching, something cutting into forearms and shins...disgusting taste in mouth, like I'd eaten a spoonful of rust mixed with charcoal and old blood...light punching into my eyes...a white glow spiderwebbed with gray stings that pulsed in time with-_

_Huh._

From his left ear - he could hear his own heartbeat, pumping in time with the lines in his vision. With an uncomfortable realization, he knew his artificial eyes had flipped into a night mode of sorts, gathering light _through_ his eyelids.

Shepard slowly opened his eyes, and the result resembled drawing the blinds up to uncover the brilliant morning sun - causing him to squint in discomfort, his bruised facial muscles protesting at the movement. The glare went from monochrome to blurred colors, as his vision slowly gained shapes and shadows.

Whites went to yellow, blacks went to blues and purples.

Two swirling blobs of violet shifted, clarified, and came together into one.

Tela Vasir was sitting directly in front of him, a broad, cruel smile on her face.

"Welcome back, machine man."


	50. Angry Chair

**[a/n - Special thanks to Bebus. This thing spent three days in beta, going back-and-forth with content changes and additions.]**

* * *

From the passenger seat of Liara's skycar, Garrus vigorously field-stripped the enormous Mantis sniper rifle in the limited space available. Between his feet was a rapidly growing pile of stonework bits and plaster dust from the debris of the asari's destroyed apartment - the same materials that still covered his normally blue armor in a layer of gray grit.

In the night sky, his young asari companion piloted the car past the neon skyscrapers of Illium, as violet-and-blue streaks of light played over her face. The sounds of metal clicking and scraping together filled the interior. Liara shook her head once, trying to clear her fogged mind. She had never fully rested and healed since the Broker had initiated his assaults on her safe-houses, and even Illium's gravity seemed a terrible hardship. Concentration was-

Garrus' first words startled her enough to make her to jump in her seat, and she muffled a groan as the sudden movement tweaked her bruised ribs. "Spirits," he hissed. "It is so...damned _frustrating_. I just want to grab people, shake them, and scream _'we're trying to save you too, you idiots!'_. Vasir called it _a job_, just before she turned on us. She even faked feeling bad for Shepard when he...found your 'body'." Liara cringed, both at the revelation of the event, and the layers of disgust in her friend's voice.

"For some fucking _money_ she'll take down the man leading the effort to...to save _everything_. What will she spend it on if"-he gestured sharply at the barely-visible horizon out his window, as he spit out the bitter words-"all of _this_ is dead and gone?"

Without taking her eyes from the controls, Liara reached out and rested her bandaged hand on the turian's armored forearm. "There are so many who simply don't believe, and there are others who _want_ to, but they can't bring themselves to accepting the magnitude of the situation. Denial is easier. What do you do when the end of everything is coming? I have felt it too. There have been days I...have hardly been able to get out of bed."

The asari's voice lowered to a reflective whisper, as if she were alone and questioning only herself. "'What if everything I have done has been done before?' 'What if our resistance, united or not, is part of the routine for every cycle?' 'What if everything the galaxy does to fight back, has been tried one thousand times before - and is expected and factored into their tactics?' 'What would have become of us if the Protheans, or any previous cycle, had actually _won_, where would _we_ be, now?' 'If _we_ win, what future species will _we_ prevent from ever being realized?'"

A muscle in Liara's cheek twitched as she clenched her teeth together. "Perhaps the people we mock for carrying on, drinking and dancing and living - perhaps they have it right."

Beside her, Garrus slumped in his seat - visibly deflated, his anger spent. It was a long, silent minute before he slowly resumed cleaning his rifle. "Shepard would never say that," he eventually muttered, hunched forward.

She turned and looked at him, wearing a blank expression that he didn't look up to see. _Oh, Garrus. I have been inside of his mind - half of those thoughts were Shepard's. He saw the Protheans die as if he had been there, and he never doubted that Sovereign spoke genuinely._

'_**We are the end of everything. The Protheans were not the first. The cycle cannot be broken.'**_

_Goddess, I will never forget that voice for as long as I live._

"N-no. He would not. Forgive me." Fighting off a fresh wave of fatigue, the asari shook her head, and blinked hard to exercise the stiffness from her eyes.

The turian nodded to himself, and returned to reassembling the weapon in his hands. "Nothing to forgive. We've all had our crisis of faith, courage, whatever you want to call it. I ran away to Omega, hoping to find a place and to do something _real._ The Citadel brass were determined to avoid any 'disruptions' such as actually informing people about what had nearly wiped them out. And what _really_ got me was...it was so _easy_ to convince everyone that things were ok now, because that's what most of them wanted to hear. How could I go back to reading scumbags their rights, filling out forms-" He cut himself off in mid-sentence, glancing over at her. "Well, you know. You didn't go back to the dig sites."

Narrowing her eyes at the airspace in front of them, Liara set her mouth in a firm line. "Perhaps I will do that - when we run out of things trying to kill us."

Garrus' mandible twitched, and he looked at her in grim resignation. "Might be a while."

They were silent for long minutes, and Liara found herself nearly nodding off. Squeezing the controls tighter, she silently berated herself for her weakness. "Does Tali still find time to rebuild and modify your weapons?" _Perhaps conversation will help._

"Mhmm," he grunted in reply, his voice a dusky grinding noise. "Shepard's also."

Liara glanced at him before returning her eyes forward, one corner of her bruised mouth turning up. "Perhaps she will be annoyed that you managed to get so much dirt in it."

"I think I have half of your apartment in this thing," he muttered, bent to his task. "Why do you think I'm working so hard on this? I'm trying to conceal the evidence." The turian sniper clipped the scope back into place, removed it, blew a bit of grit out of the locking mechanism, and reattached it.

Liara made a small motion with her head, pointing with her chin. "Here we are. This is one of Nos Astra's larger private hangar facilities - but at this hour, it should be nearly deserted."

"Mmm," Garrus hummed, followed by a long hesitation. "So. What happened?" he asked quietly, standing the rifle vertically between his knees. His deep-seated eyes peered at her in the dark confines of the vehicle.

"What do you mean?" the asari answered in a monotone, her face sliding back into an expressionless mask.

The turian sighed, and nodded at her hands as they manipulated the controls - the white bandages stark against her creamy indigo skin. "When you showed up, you were _already_ injured. Your hands and face, and you've been favoring one arm - and that is all _before_ Vasir charged you. You look like you were beaten up by thugs.

"Six years with C-Sec, Liara - you can tell me you don't want to talk about it, or that it's none of my business, or you can lie and say that you fell down the stairs - but you _can't_ tell me that 'nothing happened' or 'I'm fine'."

Picking a dark corner as close to the hangar bays as possible, Liara smoothly glided in for landing. "One of my employees was an agent of the Shadow Broker, from the day I hired her."

Garrus considered this. "Ouch."

"That was _why_ I hired her."

A longer pause. "Oh," he replied slowly, a note of admiration in his voice as he pieced things together.

"No," Liara stated, a little sharply. "I was _far_ from as clever as I thought. I thought I could use her at my leisure, discarding her when her usefulness ended. I studied her history broadly, but not deeply. I knew _who_ she was working for, but did not bother to learn _why_. She had a...personal score to settle with me. When the time was right, she struck when I was weak. I barely escaped with my life." Liara's normally smooth, teenage-looking face was creased with stress at the memory.

"I see. What happened to...?"

The skycar landed, and the asari powered it down, the cabin going black. "Nyxeris. In a rage, she beat me quite severely," she stated flatly, as if reading from a book detailing someone else's life. "She took me to a cabin she owned, far from the city. She intended to bury me there."

Liara paused, leaning limply back in her chair. "At the end, I got my hands free. I buried _her_."

"_Spirits_, Liara." The turian shook his head, looking at the darkness where he knew she sat, and wondering if he knew her at all anymore. "I hope you killed her first," he drawled, falling back on black humor when no other words came to mind.

"Mostly," she replied, opening her door.

* * *

Even as the _thump_ gave evidence of their hurried landing, Kasumi was releasing her restraints and reaching for the door release. "We're here. Some sort of private yacht hanger for rich peeps. I dropped us around back, in between some of the lights - don't see any cameras back here. You stay," she said simply, opening the door. Instantly, a tattooed hand seized her shoulder and held her in her seat.

Jack leaned forward between the front seats, blinking rapidly and swiping a hand over one cheek. "What? No fuckin' way! I'm coming with-"

Without turning, Kasumi spoke quickly. "Jack, listen to me. At your best, you're about as subtle as a fat guy playing a tuba - and you're _not_ at your best. I need to scout the area and see where they're holding him. You'll slow me down, and make noise. If something goes sideways, you won't be able to get away. _Stay here_ and I'll come back for you if I find a door that I can't hack, and needs to be ripped open."

Jack licked her lips, looking dismayed. "I can...follow you. I can be quiet. I can see a little, now. It's getting better. I can see some light at the edges."

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

The biotic grimaced. "Three?"

"Babe, I'm sorry. My hand is in my lap. I'm not holding up any fingers at all," the thief replied quietly. Kasumi turned to face the biotic. "Please, I...Jack! What-"

"I'm not crying!" the ex-convict retorted angrily. Her youthful, unlined face was slashed with the darkened tears that flowed from her heavily-blackened eyes. "My eyes...hurt like a bitch. Started a while ago. I'm leaking and it won't stop." She bowed her head, hiding herself from Kasumi's gaze as a gray drop fell from her chin.

Kasumi's omni-tool hummed to life. _"I see you're there. What's happening?"_

"One _second_, Tali. I have to _go_, Jack. I'm no good in the big fights - _you're_ the sledgehammer, ok? But this is _my _thing, and I need to do it _alone_," the thief said, quietly but firmly.

"I _know_." Angrily, the biotic slumped back in the rear seat, covering her wet face with her hands. "Fuck. _Fuck. _I hate this _so fucking much_."

Kasumi didn't know what to say to comfort her, and, regardless, she was out of time. Slipping out of the car, she stopped and turned to lean back in. "Stay, ok? You're too recognizable and you'll spook the bad guys if they see you. And, here," she added, tossing a packet into the back seat, where it landed on Jack's thigh. "Painkillers. Take 'em with your biotic juice, or whatever. Sit tight."

Jack didn't reply as the thief closed the door behind her.

As she silently glided to the hangar wall, Kasumi wedged herself into a corner and took her encrypted earpiece in hand, reaching into her hood and setting it in place. "Tali?"

"_Here."_

"I'm at a private hangar complex. Twelve or so bays, each is an independent building," she noted, swiveling her head and taking what she could see of the complex. "Pretty quiet."

"_You're already at the right one, you're nearly on top of the signal. Get inside."_

"Going silent. I can send back one click for '_yes'_, two clicks for '_no'_, and three clicks for '_I'm busy, eat a bag of dicks and shut up'_."

"_I...Keelah, that translated so horribly."_

Kasumi's teeth gleamed in the near-darkness. "Or perfectly."

"_Just hurry up, would you?"_

"Heading in." The thief tapped her omni-tool again, and vanished.

* * *

For the twentieth time, the shuttle pulled a lazy left turn, completing another circuit over the airspace of Nos Astra. Reaching up, Jacob adjusted his headset with the tip of a finger and opened his mouth to speak.

"Can it, kid," Zaeed grunted, reclining in his battered sand-colored armor as well as the co-pilot seat allowed. "They'll tell us when they got somethin'. Don't go cloggin' up the comms with whinin' 'cause you're bored."

The Cerberus soldier sighed, annoyed at how the old merc didn't share his sense of urgency. "Nothing matters much, as long as the credits land in your account in the end, eh, Massani?"

Zaeed looked at the unlit cigar he'd been chewing on, twirling it in his fingers. "Yer alright, kid. But I've been on more missions 'n I could count where it was 'hurry up an' wait', and worryin' myself into a froth never helped nothing. _And_," he continued, looking over at the other man as his ravaged face creased into a humorless grin, "Tellin' me what _does_ or _don't_ matter to me will get ya the butt of my rifle in yer fuckin' nuts."

Jacob gritted his teeth, and enjoyed a brief fantasy. It involved a biotic _Pull_ and a mouthy old man flying out the shuttle hatch.

"Keep it simple, kid. We get the call an' we bash in to drop off the heavy ordinance," the merc continued with a smirk, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder.

Behind them, sitting on the floor and with her back to the cockpit, sat the Justicar. Cross-legged and statue-still, she stared at the featureless rear wall with wide, empty eyes of sky blue.

Lost in memories.

* * *

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" a harsh voice snapped. Suppressing a squeak that would surely have issued from her younger self, Tali jumped up and away from the portable terminal she had rested on Jack's bunk. Scrambling to her feet from her seated position on the floor, the quarian engineer recovered quickly and jutted her faceplate forward, her hands curling into fists.

"What do _you_ want, _Cerberus_?" she growled in return, her helmet filters digitizing her voice into cold insult. Distantly, she wondered how Miranda had crept down the metal stairs in those heels so silently.

"I knew it was you before I even got here," the biotic human hissed, her icy blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. "EDI detected a data tunnel coming from the engineering decks that even _she_ wasn't able to crack in a timely fashion."

"_Good! _If we had such a system in the flotilla, I'd have over twenty patents in encryption schemes. After your..._organization_,"-she articulated the word slowly and venomously-"attacked the quarian people, I amused myself by tearing apart your own woeful cryptography for a while. Your Feistel unbalanced symmetric ciphers occupied me for less than a full week."

Miranda blinked, then waved away the shorter quarian's words with a dismissive hand. "Nevermind that! We're trying to track down Shepard, and you're up to something! This is a distraction at best, and at worst," her hand reached down to be closer to the Shuriken at her hip, "you're hindering the investig-"

"You _idiot_," Tali cut in, speaking over her. "I was helping to _find_ him."

Leaning forward, Miranda nearly seized the engineer by the neck before restraining herself. Taking a calming breath, she enunciated carefully. "And _did_ you?"

Now it was Tali who paused, before her shoulders relaxed. She tilted her helmet to indicate the terminal "I'm...not sure. I have a lead. I contacted Kasumi and Jack and had them go take a look. I'm waiting."

Miranda's eyes went from Tali, to the terminal, and back again. "Kasumi and Jack. Okay. Well, they can bloody well look after themselves if they find trouble."

"Hmmmmm."

Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose. "_What?_"

Tali cleared her throat. "Kasumi indicated that Jack was hurt. I think Kas is mostly going it alone."

Miranda looked up at the low ceiling as she perched her hands on her hips. "Wonderful. Give me the location, _for God's sake_. Why didn't you share this?"

Tali cocked her head, like a bird who had just observed something confusing. "Are you serious? I'd just as soon send a memo to the Geth, if I had the choice."

"Well, you don't. _God bloody dammit_, we're trying to help him. Do you think we brought him back just to...what? Stick a knife in him?" she gestured as she spoke, showing her exasperation.

"Cerberus and betrayal? _How dare I?_" Tali mocked, putting a hand to her chest sarcastically. "It's only a question of _when_, not _if_."

"Send me that location _now,_ and maybe you didn't get Kasumi killed - and maybe Shepard - with your damned secrecy." With that, Miranda stomped back up the stairs, this time making no effort to conceal the sound of her heels ringing on the metal steps. "EDI! Contact Jacob!", she yelled as she stalked away.

Tali turned back to the terminal. "Jurat al dit bosh'tet," she muttered.

* * *

"Two crew outside. Loading supplies." Liara murmured into her comm. Crouched behind a stack of tarp-covered crates, she huddled in a shadow, only her ocean-blue eyes peering over it at her targets. Ducking down, the young asari double-checked the auto-fire selector on her Shuriken submachine gun, before returning it to a thigh holster. After wiping her free hand over her aching eyes, she palmed one of her freshly-stolen stims. Reluctantly, she jabbed it into her thigh with what had become an all-too-practiced motion.

"_One more on my side. Looks like he's topping up the water tanks." _Garrus' voice crackled in the tiny headset that wrapped around her, just under the tails of her crest. Between them, the light frigate _Nyota _gleamed silver and green under harsh spotlights, steaming as it slowly prepped for flight.

Turning around, Liara sat on the floor and put her back to the crates with a gasp, blinking rapidly as the stim took effect and her heart pounded with urgency. "Can...you...?"

"_Already on it." _There was a muffled _thump_ that she could barely detect, and in the noise of their preparations, the pair of Vasir's crewmembers in front of her took notice. _"Take a nap, buddy."_

Liara took a deep breath to attempt to steady herself, her pulse racing in her ears. The combination of the stim, and the adrenaline from impending mission-action, filled her with nervous energy. Rising into a crouch, she found it was difficult to remain still. "Come to me - we will take these two together."

"_Wait a sec. Water is ninety-six percent filled according to this gauge. Kind of want to finish it."_

"Garrus," the asari growled, warring with her temper.

"_Sorry. I have issues with compulsive behaviour. On my way."_

Again, Liara pulled out her Shuriken - not seeing how her hands shook.

* * *

Slowly approaching the hangar in the darkness, the turian took another cautious step, and was rewarded with another stab of pain.

_Damn that murderous drell to whatever hell they even believe in._

Dros thought back on all the times that Enzod had mocked him for wearing a small, single-use inertial dampener at the back of his belt. Considering that he spent a good deal of his time perched on top of high objects for ideal sniping positions, the small, wiry turian had always thought it eminently practical.

'_Lugging that around all the time? How many times have you used it, Dros? You slip and fall a lot? Would be cheaper to be less clumsy,' the batarian had sneered with a grin._

'_Doesn't weigh much, and I only need to need it once, 'Zod,' he'd replied, to an answering scoff._

Now Enzod was dead - drained of most of the blood in his body, like a butchered animal - and Dros was alive.

_Guess I won that little argument._

He took another step, and winced. The only hard part - outside of free-falling for ninety terrifying stories - was judging when to activate the dampener. As it turned out, he was a bit early and had plummeted nearly ten meters uninhibited - nearly snapping an ankle.

_Lived. Can't complain._

He took another step.

_Hnng. Maybe I can complain just a litt-_

Dros froze in place. He'd just heard a _thump_.

_Close by._

_That parked skycar._

The turian squinted, not moving a muscle. It was only twenty meters away.

_Movement. Someone is inside._

He waited a full minute, his heart thudding in his chest. Nothing.

_Do. Something. Can't stand here until the sun comes up._

His Incisor sniper rifle - at least he'd still been holding it when the drell had side-kicked him off of the building - unfolded from his back, and filled his hands. Bringing it up to level, he peered through the scope at its lowest magnification, and switched on the night-vision module.

_Human._

_Human _female_. She didn't see me._

The human leaned far back in the rear seat, either trying to sleep, or stretching. The movement exposed more of the torso, bare arms, and shoulders.

He squinted, looking closer.

_Short hair. Very short. Like a way fresh novice human soldiers always look. Perhaps she is one. No. Those marks. Not a shirt. That's her...skin._

His mind raced, thinking back to quickly reviewing the dossier of Shepard's companions that Vasir had presented. He felt a tingle of excitement - and alarm.

_Subject Zero._

Two things from the dossier sprang into his mind.

One - that Zero's file was littered with warnings. Incredibly powerful. Aggressive. Volatile. Unpredictable.

_That is bad._

And two - that Subject Zero's existing bounty with the Broker and other interests was _exceedingly_ generous. _Lots_ of footnotes. A few sprang forth from his memory.

'_Absolutely unique biotic amp technology created for this individual alone. Too dangerous to attempt live capture. Bounty amount noted is for corpse in excellent condition. __Payment for damaged corpse is pro-rated for condition upon delivery.__'_

_Those lesser amounts were still pretty good._

_That is...interesting._

_Hmm._

* * *

In the confusion of awaking at an unknown time and place, Shepard had the opportunity to blink one time before training and instinct kicked in. Across from him, sitting on a simple metal chair, was the asari Spectre. Bathed in blue and yellow light from overhead illumination, she was bright in the center of the otherwise darkened room. The walls around them were visible but indistinct.

With alarm, he realized his left eye was only working in monochrome - shades of grainy gray rather than the bold colors of Vasir and her blue-purple armor.

_Forget that - not important to survival. Ignore Vasir. Known quantity. Environment. Look for something you can use._

_A ship. Tight confines. Spartan. Smaller than Normandy. Asari-made. Salarian influences._

"Good, Shepard, _good_. You don't waste any time."

_Bound. Chair. Metal. Heavy restraints._

Looking down, he saw his bare arms vanishing into thick metal bands around his wrists. Beyond his similarly bare legs, he flexed and felt similar resistance around his ankles. He was clothed in only a simple black shirt, and undershorts. His wrists and ankles tingled uncomfortably, as if the nerves were being pinched.

As she spoke, he found himself keeping his functional ear facing in her direction. "I'm not even worth looking at, am I? You're disciplined. I like that. Do you feel that? Your nervous system is being actively suppressed in those areas - robs you of strength. Even if you did rip yourself free, well, there's a monowire rim embedded in all four of those. Go ahead if you want - rip that restraint right off - and watch your hand detach and fall on the floor." Still looking past her, his peripheral vision caught her wide, bright smile.

From under his chair, a metal-sheathed cable ran along the floor, to a wall conduit - it led up to a waist-high switch, protected by a metal rim to prevent accidental activation. Close to the base of that wall, he could see his armor in a careless pile.

The asari followed his gaze. "Yes, that's right, robot-man. That switch over there sets you free. Isn't it far away, though? _That_ must be frustrating. Didn't think you'd need that armor - my _Overload_ pretty much fused all the electronics, anyway."

The only thing left of note was a common terminal, perched on a crate next to Vasir's chair. It displayed a flickering vid feed, wide-angled, that looked like the interior of a bridge of a small ship. Several crewmembers of various races milled about, unhurried - the video quality was low enough he could not discern much beyond that.

There was nothing else worth seeing. He looked back to front and center, and met her gaze. Her smile widened. Perfect teeth. Confident. Tela Vasir was admittedly quite beautiful, in a strong, powerful way. Shepard suddenly had a notion of what Ash would look like if she had been born asari - even her smooth, smoky voice wasn't so dissimilar.

She tilted her head, leaning forward. "Ah, here I am! Eye contact at last. I have to say, Shepard. You look _terrible_." Her armored hand shot forward, catching his chin. Twisting his face back and forth, she examined him closely. For an instant, he caught a dull red dot in the reflection of her eyes. "I think the Illusive Man's favorite toy is breaking down."

Shepard felt terrible, as well. He was still burning hot, despite his partial clothing and the coolness of the room. A trickle of sweat ran off of his forehead and trailed over his cheek, which inexplicably stung like a raw wound. The muscle in his cheek jumped at the unexpected pain.

"Yeah. _That_ must smart," Vasir smirked, releasing him.

The unmistakable hum - the _aliveness -_ of a ship underway in the blackness of space, was absent. This ship felt dead and cold.

"We're still on Illium," he croaked, grating out the words from his parched throat. "This ship isn't running. We're on the ground. What are you waiting for?"

The asari looked surprised at his sudden words "Oh, so you'll be chatting with me? That's nice. Yes, we are. I'm waiting for someone. The only person on my team worth keeping, if we're being completely honest with each other, _Spectre-to-Spectre_." She twitched her eye, in a conspiratorial half-wink.

Rising from her chair, Vasir walked into a gloomy corner, retrieved something, and returned. Flipping the chair around so that the back of it faced Shepard, she sat in it like a careless teenager, her arms draped over the back as she leaned her breastplate into it. In one hand, she casually held his bulky Carnifex. In the other, an unlabeled bottle of water.

"Drink?" she asked, wiggling the bottle invitingly. Shepard nodded, and she popped open the cap with her armored thumb, holding it up for him. He took one large mouthful, turned his face away - water poured onto his neck for a moment before she removed the bottle with a frown - and he swished before he spat a rusty brown mess on the floor. Clearing the old blood from his mouth was a relief and pleasure.

"Charming," the asari remarked with a grimace, but held the bottle up for him again. This time he drank five greedy gulps before nodding for her to stop. When she removed the bottle, he licked the last drops of clean water from his split lip - thinking of when she'd punched him at the water fountain.

"Why, Vasir? You were already a Spectre. What more could you possibly hope to achieve?"

Vasir rocked back in her chair and laughed. "_More?_ You think being a Spectre is something? We're the galaxy's most powerful pawns! The Council dispatches us to trouble that they don't want to touch. If we actually fix it, they pat themselves on the back and hold press conferences. If shit goes bad - they cut the rope. Brand us reckless rogues that acted under our own authority and without official Council decree - and that's if we even _survived_ the incident. The orders are secret so _they can't be held responsible for them_.

With a _tic_, followed by a fading digital _hiss_, his other ear resumed functioning.

"Do you know what the number one cause of Spectre death is? _Other Spectres_. Do you think offing Saren made you special? Dozens of Spectres have been put down without so much as a funeral to mark their passing. I'd know - I've done some of the putting down. So did Saren, even years before he went completely nuts. You think Nihlus was sent to arrest Saren? Saren killed him first because he _knew_ why he was there. You think Tevos never woke _me_ up in the night after the decision had been made, with a name and a system? Now, it's _you_ I'm making disappear," she added, leaning forward, her face darkening.

Shepard's lip curled up in annoyance. "That's _bullshit_. You're not acting on Council orders for this. You sold out for credits. You're just a merc, now."

Vasir snorted and shook her head. "The Council, the Broker - who cares? One self-interested party, or the other. The Council exists to enrich and strengthen The Council, end of story. Politics is the control of power, and I've never seen a species that didn't figure _that_ out way before they sorted out FTL. Humans weren't allowed _in_ until it was more beneficial for the Council than leaving them _out_. Congratulations on throwing together a huge navy that gives even the turians pause - it bought you a seat at the table with the grown-ups.

"The volus have been serving the Council's financial interests for two millennia - hell, they designed and operate the galactic exchanges - but they don't have a fleet that scares anyone, so fuck them. The krogan were pieces of meat thrown at the rachni over two thousand years ago, but they made the mistake of winning before we had another enemy lined up for them, so _fuck_ them.

Vasir's face was turning purple with indignation. "The difference is, the Broker doesn't bullshit me about the nature of our relationship. You can't say that about the Illusive Man, so don't act like you have any fucking thing to say to me," she said, jabbing her finger at him accusingly. "Of us two puppets, you're just the oblivious one who pretends that he isn't."

Shepard shook his head slowly, as if merely weary of her preaching. "Is it all of these power balances that kill you, Vasir? It won't matter, soon. We'll be fighting for survival. We'll all live or die, together. The rich and the poor of every race - they'll be scratching for one more heatsink or one more food ration." His gaze drifted away to look over her shoulder and into the dark.

"I saw it. I think it was close to the end. I think it was the last world the Protheans had left. I don't know whose memory it was. Maybe it was a soldier, or a civilian, or a child. We're like blades of grass to them, Vasir," he continued in a stronger voice, his eyes returning to hers. "They don't care about any of that _crap_ you're all twisted up about."

Her lip curled up in disdain. "Don't-"

"That's why I gave you a chance on the tram, Vasir. To come back and fight for the Council. Even after what you did to Liara - who you _thought_ was Liara - I needed people like you. Weapons. I needed _weapons_," he said, feverishly, leaning forward as fresh beads of sweat fell from his face. "It's going to be _galactic war_. I saw their cities _burning_, for fuck's sake. A million voices screaming. I could _taste_ the ashes in the air-"

"_Damn_, Shepard," the asari cut in, her eyes narrowed as she shook her head slowly, "You. Have. _Lost it_. I got access to a vid from the Council chambers, and saw Saren ranting at you before he blew his brains out. No audio - but you look just as unhinged as he d-"

Behind him, a door slid open, and a quick-speaking, salarian-sounding voice chirped, "Vasir. Ship prepped. Can disembark on command - will be in cockpit awaiting the order."

Vasir nodded, her face towards the salarian but her eyes on Shepard. "Good, Kamin. Once Dros shows, we're done here."

Behind Shepard, the salarian sniffed dramatically - evidently that expression wasn't reserved for Mordin alone. "Caught glimpse of him on an external cam. Sneaking about. Didn't board vessel. You said to avoid comms. I didn't contact."

Vasir rolled her eyes. "So _walk out there and get him_. Why is this difficult?"

With a _hmph_ sound, the unseen salarian retreated, and Shepard heard the mechanical noise of an external airlock cycling - followed by a _thump_.

Vasir leaned in closer. "Don't tell Kamin about that 'worth keeping' part - I think that would hurt his feelings." The athletic asari offered a sly smile, like a secret had just been shared between old friends.

* * *

Not able to stand it a second longer - she felt like her skin was trying to crawl off of her body - Liara jumped up and ran at the two crewmen, her left hand upraised and glowing. The batarian saw her first, all four eyes bulging as he dropped the crate he was carrying even as her _Stasis_ hit him. The salarian next to him pushed away the foodstuff-laden trolley he'd been dragging, and reached for his holstered Predator.

"_Kai!_" she shouted, even as her submachine gun smashed him across the mouth. She struck him with such ferocity that his teeth clattered on the steel floor before his body followed. A pool of green slowly grew around his head as he lay still, his jaw hanging from an ugly angle.

Walking past the batarian, she watched his eyes flick from the unconscious salarian to her, wide-eyed in fear. Without a word, she dismissed his biotic prison as Garrus loomed up behind him - and the buttstock of his rifle crashed into the back of his neck to crumple him.

"Heh, if you hit batarians at that little spot there, that gets them every ti-" The turian's mandibles flared widely in surprise as he looked down at the salarian's shattered face.

Not looking back, Liara was already running up the gangplank towards the main crew hatch. "The _door_, Garrus!"

Shaking his head, the armored sniper packed away his Mantis, and jogged to follow her. Activating his omni-tool, he spoke a single word.

"EDI?"

"_Ready, Gunnery Officer Vakarian. Decrypting."_

As the lock fell victim to the powerful AI, Liara flared her biotics, her entire body glowing as she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, while her teeth worried at her bottom lip nervously.

His glowing forearm against the door, Garrus peered sideways at her in concern. "Are you allrigh-"

"_Decryption complete."_

The hatch recessed with a hiss of equalizing the slight difference in air pressure, and rolled to the side to expose the interior of the ship. As his omni-tool faded, and his Mantis extended from the clip at his back, Garrus managed a half-step towards the opening.

Liara was quicker, shouldering her way past his arm as she dashed past him. Before he could say a word, she was in and charging hard.

* * *

Noticing his distraction, Vasir cocked an eye at Shepard. He was no longer looking at her, but at the previously ignored terminal behind her left shoulder. Turning to it, she made a noise of interest and leaned closer.

The unknown ship bridge displayed in the feed was in chaos. Silent gunfire flashed, streaks of light went in all directions, and abruptly the display was obscured by white light and grainy static. After a few seconds, detail returned to the screen, showing a _Singularity_ in the center of the room - pulling weapons, unsecured chairs, datapads, and flailing crewmembers alike into the gravity well. From off-screen, gunfire poured into the helpless targets, and the battle was over as quickly as it began.

The _Singularity_ died, falling into itself and vanishing, and the corpses fell to the floor as two figures came into view. First, a small asari clad in black, darting forward carelessly and waving her submachine gun into all corners - followed by an armored turian, who stalked into the room like a predatory cat, his long rifle leading the way.

_Liara. Garrus._

_Which means..._

_They're not here. They don't know where I am._

For the first time, he heard Vasir's laugh.

* * *

"HASIIRAH! _Kirimori uo' fura!_" Liara shrieked, nearly doubled over with the force of her rage. With a reckless sweep of her arm, her biotics hurling a crewman's workstation chair against the hull to shatter - reaching so deeply into vulgar asari profanity that Garrus' translator offered no assistance.

Her body was wreathed in flickering blue power, brilliant but unsteady as emotion alone dredged up the last bits of her endurance. Piled at her feet were the dozen or more bloodied and broken bodies of the former crew.

They'd frantically searched the vessel. Shepard was nowhere to be found.

"Liara! _Liara!_" Garrus yelled, dropping his Mantis with a clatter and wrapping her up from behind in his long arms. "We'll find him! Listen! _We will find him!_" With another wordless yell, she thrashed in his arms, her feet lifting from the floor with the effort. His fangs vibrated in his mouth, and his plates crawled over his flesh with the ache of being in contact with her during her biotic display - but he closed his eyes against her fierce incandescence and held on.

Finally, she sagged against him and the throbbing discomfort in his organs subsided. Slowly, the turian loosened his grip. She slipped down the front of his armor until her boots again touched the floor. "Garrus," she gasped, almost a sob, "I...I...you..._don't know what I've done_. To get him back. I...can't-"

Just as he removed his hands, Liara took one step forward, wavered, and fell. Garrus reached for her, but grasped empty air as she crumpled bonelessly - pitching forward into the bloodied dead.

* * *

Vasir slowly turned away from the terminal in the middle of Liara's display of anger, and when she fell, Shepard looked away as well. He tried to deny the fear crawling up his spine. For Liara, for himself, for the unknown place Vasir was planning on taking him - it was hard to pinpoint, but he knew what fear felt like.

"Ahh...that _is_ amusing. Figured T'Soni would trace the ship I arrived on - I bet she tapped into our comms pretty early. I got the impression the Broker finds her to be damned annoying. Anyway, that was a crap crew - Eclipse washouts, most of them," she scoffed. "Hey, it kind of worked out that we only popped T'Soni's double - saved me the bother of getting rid of the dead weight on this mission."

Sitting the bottle of water on the floor, Vasir lifted the Carnifex and examined it in the lights, holding it between their faces. "Gotta say, Shepard. This big bastard is a _sweet_ handgun. I've always liked this model, you know. Powerful, tough, a bit crude - reminds me of me," she said with a narrow-eyed smirk.

"You've had a lot of work done on this. This is heavy, even for a Carnifex. Look at the barrel, hmm? You'd think it was a shotgun." Under the lights, she held it up between their faces, turning it to and fro. With practiced hands, she worked the slide and shook her head in appreciation. "I don't think you're the weaponsmith type, so who does this for you, Vakarian? Didn't know he was _this_ good. This is," she squinted at the gun, searching for the proper words, "a work of _passion_."

"But you're good at that, aren't you?" Vasir continued, more casually. "Inspiring your little followers to risk life and limb for things that barely concern them. Even the little people that fly your ship, keep the engine running, and handle the flight systems - I bet they'd crawl through a burning house for you. Those two females back at the train wreck, hell, I have to admire their courage."

Vasir crossed her forearms over the top of the chair-back, and rested her chin on it - the Carnifex now dangled from her fingertips casually, forgotten. Her smile was wide and taunting. "Do you remember that at all? You were pretty messed up at the time. Two of your girls, orange-hair and a brown-skin one, they thought they could stop me. Were they sightseeing nearby? They didn't even have armor on," she finished with a dismissive chuckle, shaking her head.

Shepard blinked, a tingle running up his spine. Somewhere at the edge of his memory, as he'd faded to black, there had been screaming. With widened eyes, he leaned forward.

The asari Spectre's grin only grew, pleased at the reaction. "That brown one had a quad, you know. Jumped out of her 'car and was popping shots at me." Vasir held up the Carnifex again, smiling at it. "Nice gun, like I said. First shot. Right in the face."

At the edge of his awareness, he thought he heard a sharp intake of breath from an unexpected location in the room. Then, Vasir's voice was fading away, replaced by the pounding in his ears.

"Orange-hair got brains sprayed all over her - and _wow_, she was quite the screamer. Thought it was more entertaining to leave her there, covered in brown-girl."

Shepard dragged in a ragged breath as he jerked forward in his restraints, feeling fresh hatred pound in his chest. A warm, wet trickle of blood flowing around his left wrist was his reward. "Sarah-" his voice managed to grate into shape.

"_Patel_," a voice behind Vasir growled, as the air shimmered with blue sparks. The hooded Kasumi Goto appeared, her painted lips drawn back with rage, her glittering monomolecular _Wakizashi_ sword already drawn. "Her name was _Sarah Patel_-"

The thief shifted her weight and uncoiled her body - as Vasir began to turn, Kasumi plunged the disruptor sword into the startled Spectre's back with a flash of light.

"-you murderous_ bitch._"


	51. The Turning Point

_**[a/n - Warning - Violence follows. Also, I'd like to a) thank Bebus for his beta-reading and contributions, per usual, and b) I think I should start giving a few pointers to really fantastic stories that seem to be under the radar in relation to their quality. I'll start with 'Taetrus Trash' by anonymous moose.]**_

* * *

Jack yawned, stretching back in the rear seat.

_Fuck. So tired. Eyes feel better. Can't see. Don't care._

Chewing those pills dry - the biotic juice bottle at her hip was long gone, somewhere - wasn't exactly pleasant, but they did the job.

_Between prison an' Shepard's boat, drugs n' me starting to be on a long-distance relationship._

_Feels good._

_Floaty._

_Missed it._

_Hmm?_

_Shepard. Wasn't I...? Something?_

_Shit._

_Can't think._

_Sleepy. Warm. Quiet._

Turning her shoulder to the seat, she pulled her knees up to her chest, and hugged herself with her arms.

_Mmm._

_I wish..._

Blackness closed in like heavy weight, dragging her down.

* * *

Partially out of the chair as she began to rise, Vasir's entire body shuddered as Kasumi's sword - a virtual artifact of deadly technology and craftsmanship - penetrated both her hardshell armor and her partially-activated _Barrier_. With a scream, she violently twisted toward Kasumi, ripping the hilt from the thief's hand.

The _Wakizashi_ - disruptor energy still dancing along the blade - stuck out from the back of her left shoulder like the key in a macabre wind-up soldier. Her face twisted in agony, she reached back and her hand grasped ineffectively at the sword, trying in vain to find purchase to pull it from her body - before balling that armored fist-

"Duck!" Shepard urged.

-and sending a spinning backhand punch at Kasumi's face. Still behind her, and wide-eyed with shock that her deadly strike had far less effect than expected, the thief took the blow full in the jaw with a _crack-_

Shepard cringed.

-that sent her staggering and falling-

"Terminal," he warned helplessly, blinking a bead of sweat from his eye.

-into the table that held the terminal, cartwheeling over it and tumbling awkwardly to the floor, stunned. The table tipped and fell on top of her, and the terminal smashed on the deck in a burst of sparks as the screen shattered.

Shepard winced.

Angrily, Vasir rammed Shepard's Carnifex into her too-small thigh holster. Clearly, this was now a personal score.

Looking down at his trembling fists, Shepard saw blood already dripping out of one restraint. The furious urge to put Cerberus' bone weaves to the test against the promised monowire-embedded shackles was overwhelming.

_Wait. This isn't the moment. Wait._

Stalking after Kasumi, the sword still waving from her back, Vasir pushed aside the table and kicked away the smoking computer terminal. Even as the groggy thief struggled to sit up - her painted mouth smeared with fresh crimson - Vasir seized the smaller Kasumi by the front of her lightweight suit with both hands. Dragging her up from the floor, the asari Spectre lifted the much smaller woman over her head. "You...made...a _big fucking mistake_, _little girl_," she rasped through her teeth.

With a grunt of pain and effort, she hurled the hooded woman into the opposite wall-

"Go limp," Shepard pleaded breathlessly, his gleaming silver eyes tracking her across the room, feeling sickeningly helpless.

-to crash into the wall two meters above the floor, leading with her upper back. There was the distinctive _crack_ of a bone breaking, before rebounding to limply fall to the floor. With a gasp of pain, she rolled to her side, curling up into herself protectively while clutching at her left shoulder.

The silence was pierced only by Kasumi's harsh panting, as she struggled to rise.

"Switch," Shepard whispered, trying to make contact with her hooded eyes.

"Raaaagh!" Vasir snarled with drawn lips, arching her back and finally reaching the hilt of the sword protruding from her. With a growl, she ripped it free with the scraping of metal on ceramic - the tip of the sword streaked with purple. Holding it before her, she sneered at it as if insulted - and turned her gaze to the fallen thief.

"Switch," Shepard hissed again, more urgently.

Expertly, Vasir flipped the sword over and tossed it into her left hand. Keeping the blade low and steady, she advanced on the crumpled human.

* * *

Kasumi Goto didn't talk about her childhood to anyone - even her beloved Keiji had been deflected with humor when he'd asked - for the same reasons other people avoids a painful topic.

There are places one does not wish to revisit.

She'd been born shortly after the start of the First Contact War, and orphaned on the streets of Japan at a time of economic upheaval, as many established industries pulled jobs and profits away from Earth.

When pressed, she'd joked about how "the thug life chose _me_," and laughed it away - which was certainly far preferable to recalling stealing food and clothing in the (at the time) urban rot of Nagoya.

More than once, she'd huddled together with other street people or young gang members, only to wake up unable to feel her extremities. Wrapped in ratty blankets covered in snow, her body stiff with cold, and on a few occasions, the frozen body of someone among them who'd not made it through the night.

Many times, she'd slept in misery - wrapped in snow-covered and ratty blankets, her body stiffened in cold and her extremities tingling. Once, she'd huddled against a stranger who'd been weak and ill, glad for the warmth of any company at all - only to awake along with a cold, unmoving body for a companion.

Kasumi had survived to escape Nagoya, while others had not.

Because her ratty blankets had been slightly thicker, her shoes slightly newer, and her coat in better condition. She'd found the best places to steal the best food, and soon, the best fixers - in order to sell junk for the maximum of meager available profits.

She'd been caught only once. Fourteen years old, and just starting to get cocky about her success - some actual money in her pockets, and a heated room that she'd actually legally rented. All of that had evaporated in a haze of several days of being beaten with fists, boots, and - once the business owner figured out that nobody missed a street urchin - with straps, just for fun.

Just her luck - robbing valuables from random old bald dude, who had turned out to be a pervert with a fetish for putting marks on the bare skin of young girls. Life is funny that way.

There had been a lot more to that story, but she had comforted herself with the notion that she wouldn't allow herself to be hurt that way again. Until, of course, someday in her far future, she fell and broke her granny-hip, died, and was consumed by her twelve cats in her _hilariously_ tragic old age.

Today was making a strong bid for number one on the injury hit parade.

Her left shoulder felt like it had undergone a quick procedure to replace the bones with broken glass - the white-hot pain radiating from there was literally breathtaking. She gasped for air, quick and shallow - every movement was agony.

"_Go limp," he__ says._

_Thanks for that, Shep. I know, myself, I had planned to go ramrod-straight and streak magnificently across the room, impaling myself into the wall like a javelin - but your timely suggestion had me changing my mind just in the nick of time._

_Oooh, pain makes me snarky._

_He's not looking at Vasir. He's looking at me._

_Oh, God. What-_

_He's saying something._

_Did he just call me a 'bitch'? __What the f..._

_Oh._

_Right._

* * *

Kasumi's head lifted slightly, and above her gritted teeth, Shepard saw points of reflected light appear as she opened her eyes. Meeting them with his own, he flicked his focus up and above her with an imploring look. The _switch_, he mouthed again.

Under the hood, the points of light winked out for an instant as she blinked.

She turned her head, looking up at the wall just above her. With a cry of pain, she twisted and reached up, slapping the switch with a gloved hand.

There was the sound of electronic manacles snapping open. Vasir's head snapped around-

In time to see him exploding out of the heavy chair, and then he was upon her.

* * *

Taking another quiet, painful step in the darkness - under his plates, his injured ankle was stiffening - Dros approached the skycar from a three-quarter angle at the rear, avoiding the sight lines from the interior. Coming within touching distance of the rear door, he dared to lean forward and peer inside - half expecting the deranged biotic convict to blow the door off and rip him in half.

Instead, he saw the faint outline of the human woman, barely illuminated by one of the high night lamps in the far distance. She was unmoving except the gentle rise and fall of the small mammalian breasts on her torso.

_Sleeping. Thank the spirits. _This would be his single biggest payday in years.

Reaching down to his belt with his left hand, he felt his way past the two normal grenades he always carried, and pulled forth his one flashbang.

_Be prepared. If the shot through the window doesn't finish her, I'll need to stun her to get my ass out of here._

The M-3 Predator in his right hand rose, and he sighted down the length of it - the barrel pointed at the darkened glass of the rear door and at the human within. Only the growing blue glow against the glass-

Growing brighter.

_Clip. Clip. Clip. Clip._

Slow, measured clicks of heeled boots on the pavement. Each louder than the previous.

"No, turian," a smooth, emotionless voice said.

Slowly, Dros turned his head to the right, and it occurred to him that for the second time this day that having his six properly covered would have been really, _really_ beneficial.

Clad in glossy crimson, the statuesque asari unhurriedly placed one booted foot in front of the other, making no effort at haste or caution. Her arms swung loosely around her hips as they swayed with unconscious sexuality. Biotic brilliance crawled and flowed over her, radiant with a level of power that exceeded even Vasir - the strongest biotic he'd ever seen.

The asari was flanked by two human males who were each profoundly different from the other. One was older, his face creased with age and ravaged by scars - one of his eyes milky with uncorrectable damage, his armor dented and battered. Like the man who bore it, it was obviously a survivor of hundreds of battles. An equally-battered Mattock assault rifle was carelessly resting on one shoulder, as casually as if he was taking it for a morning walk.

The other man was clad in glossy black light armor, his limbs bulky with physical strength. Like his armor, he was dark and smooth with youth and newness, and walked with restrained confidence. He cradled a M-22 Eviscerator shotgun in his hands with the ease of everyday familiarity, but in a professional stance.

The two men exchanged a silent look, and the old one tilted his head at the hangar. With a nod, the younger man peeled away, his head scanning the shadows and not looking back.

_Clip. Clip. Clip._

The old man stopped walking, electing to hang back further. The implication was obvious.

He didn't want to be caught up in the mess.

_Clip. Clip._

_Clip._

She stopped only meters away, making no obvious threatening motions. Dros could feel his plates tingling as the bonds of gravity around her were stressed and stretched, as if she were a celestial object; a child of the elemental universe - and when he finally met her gaze, what he saw nearly convinced him that it was true.

"Your weapons. Discard them."

Below her simple, scarlet headdress her pale, wide eyes were luminescent; transparent portals to a vessel that offered no personal judgement, while giving no reprieve from his already-decided fate.

"That child has endured more than you can imagine, in her brief life," she intoned slowly, "and you shall offer her no harm today."

Her head tilted ever so slightly to one side, her gaze never wavering in the slightest. The Justicar had not yet blinked, her eyes wide and devoid of malice.

"Nor ever again, Goddess willing," she added, almost as an afterthought.

Dros swallowed unsuccessfully, his mouth having gone dust-dry. A small piece of his mind notified him that he was hearing a slow, heavy _thump, thump, thump _in the indeterminate distance.

The asari took no notice, her unblinking eyes still holding his.

Tearing his eyes away from hers to look over her shoulder, Dros saw the old man furrow his brow, and begin to search for the origin of the sound.

The asari didn't turn her head, unconcerned. Her focus was complete.

The clinical, detached manner of her speech made the words all the more chilling.

"Step away from her, mercenary, and receive your compensation."

* * *

Kamin, the salarian engineer of Vasir's newly-adopted ship - the _Moto Bahari _- reached the end of the long metal gangplank, ignoring the commotion that faded behind him as he walked. Shaking his head, he assumed Vasir's considerable temper had seized her yet again, and she had begun to physically assault the shackled Commander Shepard. Her eagerness to best him by every measure possible had been fully transparent every time the subject arose.

_Pointless. Reckless. Uncontracted and unspecified! Not conducive to good business. Apprehend and deliver and finish the job!_

_Address later. Find Dros. What is he do-_

He froze in place. The hangar was empty and dark, but at the far end one of the smaller bay doors - intended for service vehicle entry - was open. Past it, under the utility lights, a figure strode past confidently - not bothering to look to either side.

And absolutely not a member of Vasir's crew.

_Problem._

The quick-thinking salarian turned and trotted to the underbelly of the _Bahari_, firing up his omni-tool. A few quick credential entries later, the loading ramp descended from the cargo bay. Trotting up the incline while typing, he continued selecting commands.

Four script executions later, two massive YMIR mechs were unfolding themselves and silently towering over him. The armored heads - larger than his torso - focused on him with their red double-ring sensors, expectantly awaiting direction.

"Follow," he said, simply, turning on his heels and jogging down the metal ramp. It thudded and shook under his feet as the mechs obediently trailed behind.

_Solution._

* * *

"_Whoa!"_

The first indication of trouble was Jacob's voice. Restrained, professional, and quiet to a fault - the same reasons he'd remained uninvited to Zaeed's poker games - it was the first time the old merc had heard a note of panic from the Cerberus officer.

Turning his head away from the Justicar and turian in front of him, he saw the bright light of Jacob's biotic shield flare to life as the man backpedaled out of the same hangar door he'd entered. Even as he retreated towards them, he fired two blasts from his shotgun into the featureless darkness of the open vehicle door. Nearly aimless, they seemed intended to distract and deter-

Out of the blackness appeared the bright red sensor lights of a YMIR mech, as it ducked its enormous bulk under the upper lip of the service entrance so it could exit to the outside.

"Aw, goddamn," Zaeed muttered, hauling the heavy rifle from his shoulder with a gravelly groan of resignation.

* * *

As one, the asari and the old man snapped their heads to the side at the sound of the dark human's exclamation - and an instant later, the turian dared to look also.

_The YMIR mechs. Ours. Thank the spirits._

His eyes snapped back to the immediate threat in front of him - the old human was already moving to advance on the mech, seeking to flank it relative to the position of the one in the black armor. The asari, meanwhile, merely returned her gaze to Dros' own - clearly, she was intent on picking one quarry and sticking to it until the matter was completely decided.

However, by that time, the stun grenade that had been in Dros' hand already rested at her feet.

Dros turned and hurled himself up and over the skycar, even as the entire complex lit up in a flash of white light.

_Bang_.

* * *

Tela Vasir didn't permit herself an instant of hesitation or surprise - the basics of her combat training had started over three hundred years ago - and she pivoted on one foot, reversing the angle of the sword in her hand and bringing it back to face him.

She was still clad in her full purple-blue hardsuit, while Shepard wore only black underwear.

She was a biotic vanguard of the highest order, while Shepard was a human soldier - special forces though he may be - with some cybernetics from a human supremacy group younger than most of her home appliances.

_Laughable._

_If the fool wishes to impale himself with his own momentum, so be i-_

Before she realized what was happening, his left hand reached out, and the back of his wrist slid up and along the flat of the blade - gently nudging it aside by several degrees.

_Impossib-_

Shepard drove his naked shoulder into the asari's chest plate with such force that she was lifted from her feet, going over and above the prone hooded woman at her heels. His right arm clamped around her waist, Shepard followed through and drove her into the unyielding wall of the hull with the _crack_ of collapsing carbon-ceramic armor.

Rebounding from the wall, they fell together - nearly on top of the wounded thief, curled up at the base of the wall below them and doing her best to avoid being smashed by the flying bodies.

* * *

Considering that every shallow breath was rewarded with pain, Kasumi was perfectly content to press herself into the wall and patiently wait for Shepard to do something suitably heroic and consistent with his reputation.

Crushing Vasir into the wall just above, so that both of them fell on top of her, would _not_ have been her first choice. With a squeak, she braced herself even as Shepard's fortunately-unarmored elbow struck her a glancing blow in the face, while Vasir's _un_fortunately-armored butt landed painfully on her hip.

_Ow._

_Of all the asari in the galaxy to land on me, it would have to be a really big one that works out._

Her good hand shot down and grabbed at Shepard's handgun, still in Vasir's thigh holster.

_Something-something lemons and lemonade._

She got a partial grip, and tugged. The oversized gun was wedged in tightly, and her gloved hand slipped off, empty.

_Bite me, lemon-related idioms._

Thinking fast, she settled for the next best thing.

Pickpocketing was her oldest skill. Even now, it made her nostalgic.

* * *

Both spectres scrambled to their feet, with Shepard sucking in his stomach and throwing his hips back to avoid a sweeping slice by the asari that would have disemboweled him. Using her momentum against her, he reached out and pushed her follow-through even wider, stepping in and jabbing his fist into her mouth hard enough to snap her head back - before stepping back just enough to negate his exposure to the blade in her hand as she recovered.

Clutching her right arm around her stomach, Vasir realized - to her shock - that Shepard had hit her with such crushing force it had damaged her armor, and the pain in the back of her shoulder had redoubled. The asari glared at him with hatred-slitted eyes, and ran her tongue over her bottom lip - discovering the taste of her own blood.

"Shepard...I'm starting to consider taking the lesser payoff - and handing you in dead," she growled, dropping into a crouch.

Shepard did the same, and she nearly laughed - he looked ridiculous. Well-muscled and long of limb though he may be, he was nearly naked and unarmed while she was clad in full armor. Still, his face betrayed no fear. His skin was mottled with pink, both from the fresh bruising of their collective battles, and from exertion.

He looked more _excited_ than afraid. That made Vasir angry - people were afraid of her. Always.

Her biotic _Charge_ had a minimum execution distance, and a brief power-focusing delay in the mnemonic gesture. Both were problematic. Shepard was keeping just out of blade-distance, but carefully close enough that he was clearly waiting for a free strike if she paused in her active defense. Behind her was less than a single step to the hull wall.

This would be done the hard way.

"There won't be a payoff at all, Vasir," he teased, using a quick twitch of his trailing leg to feint a kick - and grinning mirthlessly at her reflexive motion to block, as if satisfied with the results of an experiment. "What's wrong, _vanguard?_ Not so good without a running start?"

"Run your mouth, Shepard. That'll make this all the sweeter," the asari Spectre replied, her voice low and threatening, as she circled the annoying human. She felt wet heat running from the wound in her back, coating the inside of her armor.

_Goddess-damned coward infiltrator._ _After I put down Shepard, I'm going to cut off your face with your own blade._

Vasir knew she had to wrap this up by any means possible - it was becoming clear she'd underestimated Shepard's abilities combined with Cerberus' technologies.

And he was proving to be infuriating.

"Your rep is overstated, Vasir. _Saren_ came right at me, he didn't dance around," Shepard sneered, waving her forward. "Want me to back up a little, so you can charge me? Or I could look away for a second, so you can sucker-punch me, _again_." He drifted to the side, light on his feet and unencumbered as her eyes flickered up and down him as he moved.

_Movement good. Balanced. But nothing fancy._

"Keep talking, Shepard. I'm going to take it out on your friend when I'm done with you," she grated in reply, her teeth bared.

Shepard shook his head, slowly. "When we're _done, _you'll be dead. You had your chance to drop this and come back. I made a mistake offering that - but there it was. How many people did you kill, instead?"

"That mattered? Zero. There are always more herd animals around when you need them for something." She feinted a stabbing motion, and was doubly annoyed when he didn't even acknowledge it, as if he had all the time in the world. Despite his bulk, he bounced lightly, feeling for an opening.

_Arrogant little child. When I was born, your pathetic ancestors were still inventing steam engines._

"_When_ you're done? I'm _right here,_" he laughed quietly. "No wonder the Council sent Nihlus instead of you. Can't have the _SR-1_ crashing into a star after the crew was _talked to death_.

"You little _ape_," she hissed, lunging forward, the tip of the sword aimed for his neck. With the weight of her armor behind it, the blade would punch straight through hi-

_Mistake. No armor. Too much force behind the blow._

"You know what hardsuits-" he said - all the scorn in his voice from a moment ago gone.

_Faked_, she realized in a moment of clarity.

His hands came up in a blur.

_Too much momentum. Balance too far forward._

In one motion, he captured her sword-hand in his - crushing her fingers against the hilt with a strength she knew a natural human was not capable of - and did a half-spin with impeccable footwork that he'd carefully concealed until now. Shepard steered her elbow over his shoulder and slapped his back into her breastplate.

_I screwed up. He's so fast. Drell-fast._

"-and barriers-"

Twisting his neck, he cast a sideways look into her eyes, his face slack and emotionless.

"-are poor defense against?"

_Impossibly fast. Stronger._

"Hyper-"

_And he suckered me in._

_"-extension."_

With a sound not unlike a bundle of dry twigs being snapped, he levered her arm down - and her elbow went nearly ninety degrees in a direction never intended by evolution.

Distantly, she heard the sword _clang_ to the floor.

From far away, she heard the hiss of her own silent scream.

Her vision went white at the edges with sudden agony.

_Goddess._

* * *

At the sound, Kasumi - already nauseous from the sickening pain in her shoulder and back - nearly retched.

Unbelievably, Vasir wrenched her arm away from Shepard and stumbled back from him, holding the ruined limb tightly against her torso. Grotesquely, it pointed at an unnatural angle.

_If that was me, I'd be calling for a time-out and an ambulance, please._

_Wait, I AM hurt. Can I have a time-out and an ambulance, please?_

Despite her still-fresh hatred for the asari, Kasumi felt a pang of respect that it didn't stop her. In fact, she was already reaching for the stolen Carnifex strapped to her right leg.

"You. Fucking. _Bastard_," Vasir hissed at Shepard, her face purple with rage. For his part, the human commando returned her glare with a calm, stony expression as he turned to face her - stepping over the fallen sword with a bare foot. The big pistol at her side was ripped free of the holster - and was up, out, and leveled at his chest in an instant.

After a split-second of consideration, the barrel wavered and pointed at the _Normandy_ commander's knee, and Vasir pulled the trigger.

* * *

_klick-bloop._

It was the nearly-universal failure notification of a missing component. For a moment, Vasir froze - then turned the gun over in her hand to peer at it, and made a face of almost comic disbelief before her eyes came up to meet Shepard's.

He smiled thinly, not looking away from Vasir, and gave a quick jerk of his head - using his chin to point in Kasumi's direction.

Vasir's head swiveled to the prone thief, still curled in the same position. Under the hood, her painted mouth carefully formed silent words through a wide, forced smile.

_Fuck you._

The thief held up a standard heatsink, and wiggled it cheerfully.

* * *

Again - and Kasumi vowed to stop being surprised at Vasir's resilience - she reacted instantly - she simply opened her hand and the Carnifex fell to the floor.

"The Broker can have _both_ of your corpses," she snarled, bent double with pain from her mounting injuries - her broken arm tucked protectively between her legs. With satisfaction, Kasumi noted the gash in her armor at the left shoulder-blade, leaking wet purple down her back. "I don't-"

The thief felt the room seemingly suck inwards, her senses _wanting_ to perceive the walls bowing in as she felt gravity bend.

"-give a _damn_ anymore!"

Like a cam flash that didn't end, the room went brilliant white. Reflexively squeezing her eyes closed, Kasumi saw the streak of Vasir's fist - reaching far back to gather momentum - through her eyelids as the arc of her _Nova_ punch went forward and down.

The thief gritted her teeth. She didn't know what was about to happen, but if her time around Jack and Liara, thus far, was any indication...

…

Nothing happened. At all.

Opening one eye, Kasumi was stunned by what she saw.

Shepard's right hand was clenched around Vasir's wrist, waist-high. His shoulder was pressed into her neck, their faces so close that they could have kissed. His forearm quivered with the effort, and she heard the creak of the asari's armor from the crushing strength of his grip.

The asari looked agonized when the glow around her hand sputtered and faded, as if the unused dark energy was painful to re-absorb. The set of Shepard's eyes were eerily calm, his mouth neutral.

With a yank, he spun her around in place while she cried out in pain as her dislocated elbow protested the movement. Hooking her right arm with the crook of his right elbow, he reached around and seized her face with his left hand.

"Kas," the N7 commando said, quietly. Peering around the asari's head, he locked gazes with the thief. One eye gleamed like chrome in the sun.

The other-

Glowed machine-red.

Over his hand - Kasumi saw the fingers dig into the flesh of the asari's face - Vasir's eyes went wide.

"Don't look."

To her shame, she didn't. Tucking her chin to her chest, the hood obscured her line of sight.

There was the ghastly sound of shearing bone and torn ligaments, followed a moment later by the brittle _thump_ of a heavily-armored body hitting the metal floor.

The thief swallowed, trying to keep from heaving, again. The heatsink was gently retrieved from her hand - she'd forgotten she'd been holding it - and she heard it being slapped into the well of his reclaimed pistol with a _snap_.

The breathing was the worst.

Vasir's body was wheezing air past the twisted, collapsed tunnel of her throat. Struggling to live. Her heart still beat, sending blood into a brain no longer properly connected to a spine.

Each breath was a little slower.

_Huah. Hhuah. Hhhuah._

Kasumi thought she heard Shepard murmur something.

_What a waste._

A tremendous gunshot echoed through the small room.

A speck of wet heat spattered her lip.

* * *

On some level, Jack knew she was dreaming.

Not only did she not care, she embraced it and pushed aside disbelief.

_Running._

It was one of the good ones. No, it was her favorite. Every time she'd experienced it before, she'd woken up angry with a reality that didn't compare.

_The lazy tide lapping over her bare feet. The water tropical and warm._

_Sand. Loosely-packed and hot. Sinking into it with each step._

_Her long hair bounced on her shoulders, tossing in the wind._

She _knew_ it was a dream - and annoyance already began at the edges of her consciousness. She'd not had long hair since the week she'd escaped the world she would eventually learn was called _Pragia_. On the first vessel she'd talked her way onto, she'd angrily shaved all off it in the crew bathroom - both defiance against her entire controlled life, and a feeble attempt at disguise against a new and unknown galaxy.

Subject Zero didn't know what _Cerberus_ was, exactly, but surely it..._they_ would pursue her.

Stars, sky, space, Mass Relays, aliens, governments. Some of these things had been kept from her, and others she'd been programmed to hate and destroy.

Fuck everybody. She would not obey. She'd hate everything equally and serve nobody but herself.

In her sleep, she growled and hugged herself more tightly.

_A yellow sun. Soaring high and hot in the sky._

_Baking her skin._

_Running forev-_

She never heard the explosion, but she was flailing and deafened before she knew she was awake, her arms and legs slapping blindly at the seats, the ceiling, the bits of glass raining off of her or embedded in her skin.

_Blackness._

_Blind._

_Car. Kasumi. Shepard._

_Get out._

Jack dove across the seat, hands clawing at the rear-passenger door release, and she scrambled out on her hands and knees, falling awkwardly to the pavement.

Surging to her feet, she took a running step-

Her teeth clicked together painfully at the impact.

-and collided with someone. Tangled together, they rolled and fell in a heap.

She didn't know which way was up.

_Brain. Stupid. Slow._

_Drugs._

_Nightmare?_

"_Ahhhhhrhahh!" _Defensively, her hands were in the other person's face, grabbing and feeling.

_Mandibles. Plates. Turian._

_Garrus? Colors. I see colors._

_Light armor. Small. Not blind? Or drugs. Can't._

Roughly, she fumbled at the right side of the turian's face even as she felt his talons begin to push away her own face, twisting her neck back and away.

_No bandages._

_Not Garrus. Focus. Can't._

The familiar surges of light-heavy as biotic power began to crawl over her skin.

_Good guy?_

Searing, burning pain as claws raked across her face and chest. The taste of blood.

_Bad guy._

_Focus._

_Fight._

By feel, she pinned his head to the pavement with her left hand, rocking her weight forward for leverage.

Claws on her bare arms. Like knives.

_That's it._

_Cut me, fucker._

_Not a spot on me-_

By her right ear, her raised fist burst into blue light she didn't see.

_-not cut a hundred times._

She felt it.

_Fight._

The fist went down.

_Kill._

And again.


	52. Still I Crawl

White.

Glowing smudges edged in green.

Instinctively, Jacob threw his arm up over his face - far too late - as the darkness of the industrial complex was lit up with a flash of light. An instant later there was a bang of a stun grenade from the general direction of the turian they'd encountered.

His night vision temporarily burned away, he instinctively raised his _Barrier_ while simultaneously throwing himself to the side.

The gut reaction from the veteran soldier saved his life - as he rolled, a burst of explosive autocannon fire tore up the pavement under him, the rubble fragments collapsing his shields with the impact damage. One round struck him clean, skipping off of his biotically-coated thigh with a glancing blow - thankfully, without detonating.

The impact was still a heavy blow, and he stumbled and fell awkwardly to his stomach, his Eviscerator bouncing around the corner of the building. Feeling it wise to follow it to safety, he pushed himself up and propelled himself forward in a graceless dive.

Even as he vanished around the building, the concrete junction was shredded and crumbled by the YMIR mech's weapons - showering him with gray dust and chunks of stone. Scooping up his shotgun, he put more distance between himself and the fresh gouge in the building, slapping his back against the wall and blinking furiously, trying to clear his eyesight.

_Samara and Zaeed. Two YMIR mechs and that turian. Stun grenade. The turian's? Non-lethal grenades not Zaeed's style. Not Samara's to use them at all. Things might be going sideways back there._

Shaking his head, his improving vision spotted a door only a few steps away - a human-sized one, unlike the vehicle-intended one facing the active combat zone. Training took over, quicker than planning and thought.

_Flank and engage from the rear._

Spinning off the wall and placing himself before the door, his shotgun roared and the feeble mechanical lock disintegrated. A solid kick later, it fell inwards and the Cerberus soldier stormed inside.

* * *

"_Ignore the humans!_" Kamin chirped loudly into his omni-tool, manually overriding the target priority for the mindless mech he was directing. The powerful asari - deafened, bleeding from one of her auditory folds as well as one nostril - was fighting from her knees, having collapsed from the strain of absorbing support-vehicle class ordinance into her faltering shields.

Yet the Justicar had torn the first YMIR nearly in half, ripping the small mass effect core from its torso and exposing a small leak of element zero, judging from the intense scent of ozone in the warm, humid night air.

"Target the asari. Lock fire."

_No matter. She will fall in moments. The two humans lack anti-armor weap-_

Kamin never heard the weapon blast from just behind - only the unexpected sight of his insides spraying out before him in a green, chunky mist. A moment later, his face was pressing into the rough, oily concrete of the hangar floor.

_Do not._

_Remember._

_Lying down._

There was the distinctive mechanical sound of _shick-shink,_ as a fresh round was chambered into a heavy shotgun. "Lock fire on _that_, asshole."

As the corners of his vision turned back, the salarian saw human-shaped black boots step over him and stride forward, to the wide hangar door and outside.

* * *

Moving slowly, Kasumi lifted the brim of her hood with a single finger and watched Shepard kneel next to Vasir's corpse - which she carefully _didn't_ focus on - and dig through her belt pouches. Holding up a high-density memory module, he quietly grunted in satisfaction before rising. He walked to the corner of the room, where he crouched and retrieved his discarded omni-tool, lying on top of his damaged armor.

_Self-test for dying. Admire almost-naked guy. Like? Check. Note broad-V shape running from waist to the big muscle-slab-bits in his back and into those shoulders. Like? Check. Look at the buns. Double-check. Damn, Shep._

_Not dying. That's...good. Wonder if Dr. Chakwas would approve of my diagnosis method._

_God, this hurts._

Now that the adrenaline of the moment was wearing off, her vision was growing blurry from the pain in her neck and shoulder, and her breathing was shallow and rapid.

_Don't cry in front of the Spectre. Uncool._

"One second, Kas. Calling in help for you."

Over his shoulder, she saw him fit in the earpiece from his omni-tool, and noted that his hands were trembling.

"Normandy, Shepard."

There was a long moment where he was clearly listening to the reply. Kasumi watched a bead of sweat run down his back, the skin still reddened.

_It's not hot in here at all. What's up with him?_

"I'm fine. Miranda..._listen_. I'm _fine_. Turning on my omni-tool's tracker, so...oh. Well, I confirm that. I'm with her now. Kasumi is hurt and needs medical assistance. Not sure if I can move her due to possible neck injury - so send Chakwas down, if possible. I'll do a scan and upload, and find some supplies to stabilize her. Shepard out."

Shepard rose and moved over to join the downed thief - pointedly stepping over Vasir's remains - and bending down to one knee. "Hey, soldier," he said gently, offering an encouraging smile. She didn't fail to notice he positioned himself to block her view of the corpse while he could.

The thief swallowed hard before speaking, forcing herself to meet his eyes without flinching. "Shep? You're..._out of uniform_, mister. Not com..._complaining_." A shiver that ran through her entire body made her stutter. "But people will talk. I got a rep...good, honest...church-goin' girl."

His small smile grew into a smirk. "I'll make sure your honor is intact, ma'am." The Normandy captain's omni-tool glowed orange as he played it along her prone body, scanning and recording. With his free hand, he pawed some of the sweat from his eyes.

The light of his omni-tool played over her shadowed eyes, making them sparkle with orange highlights, and showing her furrowed brow of concern. "Are...you ok, boss?"

Shepard grunted quietly and - summoning a holo-screen - examined the basic results of his scan. "Says the lady with the-" He paused and looked down at her. "Do you even want to know what your injuries are? Your life isn't in danger, I'll say upfront."

"N-no. It'll just...freak me out. Not a huge fan...of broken bits. Left arm is kinda tingly and numb. Just tell me I'll be able to...play the piano."

"Nope, I'm not falling for that one," Shepard muttered, finishing the scan and pushing himself to his feet with an obvious effort that surprised her. "Just be still, and I'll be right back - I know that you're in pain. I'll find you something to take the edge off."

Again, Kasumi forced a weak smile. "I have a...bottle of 1986_ Henri Jayer Cros Parantoux Pinot Noir_ stashed away on...Eden Prime, if you can manage the run."

Shepard flashed her a reassuring smile as he bent down, and she felt his hand gently pat her good shoulder before he stood and turned away. Watching him, she frowned in concern when he momentarily stumbled and lost his balance as he left the room.

* * *

Down the hall, Shepard staggered into the tiny medbay- nothing more than a dedicated washroom with additional medical storage, and a stretcher-like bed that folded down from the wall - and yanked open metal cabinets. Rooting through the contents, he examined and discarded medications and miscellaneous supplies, dumping them on the floor haphazardly when necessary.

As he reached for another wall-locker, he paused and looked at his hands in the narrow beam of an overhead light.

He was trembling. Light-headed. His legs felt weak and unsteady.

Ripping open the locker, four stacked white cardboard cases fell - one breaking open and scattering food bars around his feet. Blue plastic wrappers for dextro-protein, yellow for levo. For a moment he was looking down at them, blinking stupidly and frozen in place.

Falling to his knees, he barely had a yellow bar ripped open before it was crudely shoved into his mouth. Half of it was still sticking out as he dropped the wrapper and opened a second one, cramming it in with the first the instant it was physically possible. Breathing through his nose and eyes closed, he munched the dry, dense bars furiously while kneeling and resting his forehead against the base of a simple metal sink.

When he'd finally choked them down, he turned on the water and scooped cold water into his mouth with both hands, gasping in between gulps. The urgent need to _consume_ was all-encompassing, and it occurred to him to wonder if this was Jack often felt. Of all of the biotics he'd known and worked with, she was the most unabashed about her appetites, with Kaidan a close second.

_Kaidan?_

Kaidan. For a moment, he leaned on the tiny sink, staring down as the water swirled down the drain hypnotically. His old friend had good-naturedly endured a lot of teasing at mealtimes, with his tray heaped high with double-helpings of everything, and often triple on the carbs.

"_Just six pancakes, LT?" Ashley snickered, elbowing him in the ribs at the mess table - and nearly making him spill the cheap, artificial Alliance-issued "syrup" into his lap._

"_Oof! Yeah, Gunny, I'm watching my weight. I don't want to erode this temple of perfection," he replied with a grin, patting his flat, toned stomach._

_Ding._

_Heads swiveled - except Kaidan's - to the SR-1's automated cooker, where it flashed "PANCAKES - QUANTITY SIX - ENHANCED NUTRITION BIOTIC RECIPE" on the readout._

_All eyes returned to the lieutenant._

_Kaidan coughed. "Those are, uh, my second helping. Thought I'd get them going while I worked on this warm-up plate." Carefully, he used his plastic fork to cut a syrup-soaked wedge out of his stack, and neatly folded it into his mouth._

_Ash and Shepard exchanged glances - and as one, they both looked down at their gritty military toast and scrambled powdered eggs._

_Shepard frowned. Ash sighed dramatically._

Shepard shook his head vigorously, forcing himself back to the present while sucking in a deep breath.

_No! Kaidan's dead. Ash is gone. Tech went crazy before. Mind wandered. Hallucinations. Not again. Focus. Here and now._

Above the sink was a small, square mirror. He lifted his eyes to it-

-and recoiled with a gasp of horror as a shiver went down his spine.

In his reflection, one of his eyes glowed mechanically red, and one side of his face was a wrecked, raw mess of jagged gouges that pulsed with a dull inner glow - like lava cracks in cold, black rock.

_No!_

Stumbling back away from his own image, he nearly fell over the food boxes still scattered on the floor. Blindly putting out an arm, he slumped heavily against the cabinets.

_Not real!_

_Nanobots in my brain again._

_Seeing things._

His hand, still dripping with cold water, came up and felt his cheek - after exploring the cuts and groove in his flesh, it fell numbly to his side.

_I'm not a machine._

The room, suddenly tiny and suffocating, spun around him.

_I'm not._

The water and protein bar mixture he'd wolfed down churned in his stomach, fighting to make a premature return.

_I feel. Jack. Anderson. Liara. Garrus. Kaidan._

_The SR-1. The crew._

_Erik and Dwight, my brothers._

_Mom._

_Dad._

_I feel._

_That's...proof._

_Right?_

Kasumi's voice faintly echoed around the corner. "Shep? I...don't want to complain - _much_."

Instantly, fear turned to self-directed rage as he berated himself for not looking after _his people_. Shepard gritted his teeth and ripped open another cabinet. Finally finding a package of painkiller injectors, he tore it open as he wobbled back to the thief on unstable legs.

* * *

"_Jentha."_

"Mmph," the tanned redhead murmured, rolling over and burying her face in her pillow.

"_If you prefer, you can die in your sleep - but we thought we would allow you a fighting chance. You can still serve a purpose."_

Wrenching herself awake, the long-serving mercenary bolted upright, nearly striking her head on the upper bed frame. The bunk quarters held eight double-deck beds, and when she'd come in, five others had been occupied.

Now, all were empty. Yet, she was not alone.

Standing just inside the only door - a double-blast door, suited to the original purpose of whatever this room was designed for before it was converted to a temporary barracks - was a girl.

A sick feeling settled into Jentha's stomach. The girl's face was devoid of everything that would make her a human being, and she was painfully thin.

She was perhaps twelve, although with her long, lean limbs she could easily pass for a very tall ten-year old. Emotionlessly, she peered at Jentha through the bangs of long, straight auburn hair that fell about her shoulders and down her back. Large and deeply mahogany-brown, her eyes promised warmth but didn't seem to have the ability to deliver it.

The overhead speaker crackled again. _"We left you your armor and a weapon. They're in your locker. Put them on."_

There was a pod in the ceiling that aimed a wide-angle camera at the spot between her and the child at the door.

Tearing her own eyes away from the child's, Jentha slowly slid off her bed and began to put on her armor, making no sudden motions and moving as if confronted by an easily-spooked wild animal. As each piece of her navy and white Blue Suns hardsuit clicked into place, the child watched, impassively. The veteran mercenary had ample time to study her unnerving guest.

The child was half-naked, for starters. She wore a black halter-top and matching simple briefs that would look spartan and military in their simplicity if not for their small size. Her only accessory was a simple strap that ran from her left shoulder to her right hip that bisected the modest swell of her budding breasts - and protruding above her shoulder was the hilt of a short sword.

Not looking away from the child, Jentha clicked her breastplate into place. "You, ah...got a name, kid?"

The child shifted her weight from one leg to the other with a subtle movement of her hip, her pale, bare feet not moving from their place.

"_No, she does not. You seem to have mistaken her for a person."_

The merc buckled on her shoulder plates. "She looks like a person to me. And, I recognize your voice, Dr. Mirko."

"_Of course. But let's speak upon this - what makes a person, Jentha? A physical form, functional organs, and a heartbeat are not quite enough, most rational people would agree. No, this girl you see isn't a person at all. She is a project prototype, and today is her first field test."_

The ex-soldier paused as she pulled on a ceramic gauntlet, turning to again stare at the emotionless young girl. "This is...one of the babies you've been growing."

"_Very good. I knew that you had seen more than you had let on. Yes. There have been many dozens. Complex thing, you know. Almost all have had flaws and needed to be discarded-"_

"You mean _killed,_ and disposed of?" she gritted out between clenched teeth.

"_Ah, yes. Your file does indicate that you have a daughter. I can see how that would lead to silly emotional projections upon test subjects. Science demands a certain emotional detachment. You can't fall in love with, and give names to, all of your little white mice."_

"Mice? These are _human fucking infants_."

"_Of course they are not. Do they have parents? Are they born? They are assembled from the DNA of three - quite notable, I might add - individuals, and force-grown in a gel-filled vessel. Are they raised, in a conventional sense? Nonsense, that is horrifically inefficient. They are programmed with innate behavior while still in the vessel, floating in a nutrient-rich environment. This subject before you has never met me in person, and she was "conceived" only three weeks ago - but she knows my voice, understands my words, and she knows that I am to be obeyed."_

Jentha stood, stunned. Shaking her head slowly as the man spoke at length - no response seemed suitable, or _enough_, to express what she felt. She opened her mouth, but no words emerged.

"_This is research for armament and preparations for war. The galaxy is approaching a tipping point where total upheaval will be experienced. The first order is, of course, survival. What good are the morals of a dead race? Does the ashes of our society congratulate themselves for dying for an artificial nobility?_

"_The second order is, of course, prominence. All cultures seek to be dominant and humanity is no different. We may all soon be fighting over the same scraps - and if it comes down to that, those are scraps that we intend to win."_

Finally, Jentha found her voice. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Just let me out of here. I want no part of this...goddamned _clone-child factory_. I'll go back to my daughter and never speak of this place. I just hope you make a mistake and this entire place burns to the ground."

"_Oh, but you already spoke of this place. You leaked information to your friend 'Pavel', correct?"_

As her shoulders slumped, Jentha closed her eyes and felt the blood drain from her face. She'd signed his death warrant by sending him a single message, after she'd seen a monitor in one of Radim's monitoring stations and witnessed infants being somehow _processed_.

_They knew. Perhaps they had all along._

"_I doubt that he appreciated that," _the voice continued._ "Seeing as he was captured by Eclipse, dragged to a lonely planet named Lorek, and tortured to death while they attempted to extract information on how to decrypt the data. Not that he possessed the encryption keys. Rather...tragic, when you think of it. It must be a terrible burden to know you placed him in that situation-"_

For the first time, Jentha dared to take her eyes off of the young girl, slumping down and resting her hands on her knees. Blinking against the burn of guilty tears, she was reduced to a harsh whisper. "You son of a _bitch_. He didn't do anything to deserve that."

Over the tinny sound of the monaural speaker, there was the unmistakable sound of Radim taking an airy slurp of his beloved coffee.

"_Mm. Moving on to the situation at hand - you have one minute. Perhaps you should proceed with both arming and armoring yourself."_

Pawing at her eyes with the back of an armored hand, Jentha resumed finishing the snaps on her hardshell armor with angry, hurried movements. Reaching into her locker, she pulled forth her worn Predator handgun, and checked the heatsink.

"_A simple thing, Jentha. The door isn't locked. All you have to do is make it to the hallway alive, and you can leave this installation unharmed."_

The mercenary froze, considering the implications of the statement. Slowly, she turned to where the young girl had stood, expecting a blade to slip in a crease in her armor at any moment.

None was forthcoming. The girl stood in the same place, with the same posture and expression.

Waiting.

As their eyes met, the young girl reached up and brushed a stray lock of her long, brown hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind an ear. It was, Jentha thought, the first human thing she had done.

"_Begin."_

* * *

_With a snarled insult, two armored guards roughly shoved her forward, hard enough to make her stumble and fall. Landing on her face in the dirt and stones of the arena, she came up with a cut on her chin and bloodied palms._

_In a wide circle surrounding them, some of the other children laughed - as usual, they took small pleasures in her humiliations. Zero ignored them - she only had eyes for the kid directly in front of her._

_It was the blonde kid, for the second time. A boy. A little older than her. Pretty eyes._

_The previous time, she'd only beaten him. Badly, but not enough to kill. Refusing the calls from the overhead booth to finish him, Zero had been dragged from the arena and beaten so badly that the medical staff had later had to attend to three broken bones and the replacement of four teeth._

_This time, they prepped her with drugs. Stimulants. She felt like ripping off her own skin and exploding out of her body. In an existence devoid of happiness or simple pleasures, this was a lifeline. It was amazing._

"_This time, you will kill him, Zero," they'd said, as they'd given her a taste of the narcotics for the first time. More was promised if she obeyed._

_She laughed, high-pitched and manically. Her mind was swimming, her hatred forgotten for a moment. Yes. Yes, she would._

_The boy hated her. Loathed her. He knew she was the reason he was here. His face was still bruised black-and-green from the week-old beating she'd given him. The medical staff didn't bother to visit him - he wasn't worth the effort._

"Jack!"

_The stimulant rush was gone. She felt tired and empty. Killing would fix it._

_His eyes flashed with biotics for the last time. His face was caving in. His nearly-white hair was soaked in red. His name was Forty One. It was on a cloth pinned to his chest._

"Jack!"

_Not my name._

"Jack, stop! Yer just punchin' meat! He's dead!"

_Zero's my name._

"Jackie! Gawd-dammit girl!"

Heavy arms closed around her, trapping her already leaden limbs. Instinctively, she threw her head back and felt it connect with a face. The weight fell away.

Her hands felt swollen, wet, and they tingled with pain.

_Don't matter. Just fight._

When it had been done - she'd straddled his waist, raining down blows past what had been his feeble defences - the girl who would one day be known as Jack had rocked back on her heels, and had raised a raw, bloodied hand to brush her long, mahogany hair out of her eyes. The gesture had left a streak of wet scarlet on her face.

She'd looked up to meet the eyes of the lone man standing behind the heavy glass of the overhead control room. It had been her first clear, unobstructed look at him - and it had been burned into her memory forever.

The thin man with the big nose had nodded to her and smiled.

Zero had not smiled back. She had stared back with a combination of hatred and the hunger of expectation.

_Do it, you fucker,_ she'd thought.

He'd reached down, and his hand had moved out of sight as he'd toggled a control. Inside the heavy, thick bracelet on her left ankle, she'd felt something prick her skin - and her narrow, thin shoulders had slumped in relief when the narcotic rush had washed over her in a chemical tide of euphoria.

Subject Zero's head had rolled back on her shoulders, and the eleven-year old's face had blossomed into a wide, open-mouthed grin as her eyes had closed in pleasure.

_When I kill, he smiles,_ she'd recited in her mind.

_When he smiles, I feel good._

The logic had been simplicity itself.

_Killing feels good._

* * *

The barracks door slid open, and Dr. Radim Mirko stepped inside, balancing in his hands a small white saucer and a small cup of his preferred French roast coffee. He was flanked by two other men - a younger man with a modest blonde beard and white lab coat, and a thickly-built human male in a full Blue Suns hardsuit. Stepping over a discarded Predator handgun on the floor, he stopped and looked about with a critical eye.

The room was a mess. Half of the double-bunks were tipped over or shattered, the walls were pocked with gunfire damage, and pieces of hardshell armor littered the room. In the center of the room was the broken, bloodied blue armor still partially encasing the remains of the mercenary Jentha.

Standing just in front of her, facing the newly arrived men, was the young girl with the long brown hair. Droplets of fresh crimson spattered her pale, unmarked skin - none her own.

Dangling from her right hand was the humming disruptor sword, and it crackled as it cooked away the last of the blood staining the blade.

With a small movement of his head, Dr. Mirko indicated that the Blue Suns soldier stand aside. He did so, stepping over some of the room's debris and leaning his elbow on the top mattress of one of the remaining standing double-bunks.

The younger man with the blond beard cleared his throat nervously. "Sir. This isn't safe. I don't recommend..."

"Shh. Be silent, Nico. She will not harm us. Isn't that right, Phantom?"

Radim pointedly looked at the girl's right hand, and her gaze followed his to stare blankly at her bladed weapon. After a moment, she silently returned it to the simple scabbard at her back. Her pale, bare feet made a wet, sticky noise as they shifted in the puddle of congealing blood.

"See? Nothing to worry about. Report, Nico. You saw the video feed just as I did."

The blonde man activated his datapad and scrolled through his data charts. "Her biotic spikes are perhaps sixty percent of her potential - that will come with time and maturity - but she did pull off a very effective _Throw _with excellent strength for her physical age equivalence, and her shields were top-notch-"

Radim's black eyes peered sideways at him. "Nico. I _designed_ her amp and her biotic programming routines. Tell me about the rest."

The bearded technician swallowed. "Yes, sir. Her evasive moves were near-perfection - as evidenced by the weapon damage on everything in this room other than the test subject. Her bladework was simple, but brutal and incredibly fast - she reserved the use of her disruptor sword for the killing blow. She's a fearsome opponent, sir, especially in a confined environment such as this. With physical maturity and additional training cycles in the neural simulators - even more so."

"Anything else?"

"I estimate she would have reach that maturity in about one additional month, if she'd been allowed to remain in the incubation vessels with the FAST gel."

Dr. Mirko allowed a small nod, and sipped his coffee. "Very good. And how soon can we ramp up medium-scale production?"

The younger man scratched his beard, absently. "Pending quality assurance of the other vessels available, creating multiples in parallel will increase our continuous monitoring and adjustments overhead by a factor of-"

The hawk-nosed man lowered the cup from his lips. "How. Soon?"

"Sir. I estimate two weeks. This has been a tremendous breakthrough - I would say she's nearly perfect."

"Perhaps." Radim nodded thoughtfully, and bent down to exchange his cup and saucer for the Predator handgun he had earlier stepped over. Carrying the weapon loosely in his right hand, he approached the young girl, taking care to avoid staining his shoes with gore.

As she raised her face to look up at him, he gently cupped her chin in his hand, before tracing the back of his fingers up her pale cheek and brushing a strand of hair away from her large, deep brown eyes.

"It's so odd to look down upon _this_ face," he whispered, "without seeing the hatred, without hearing her screams, and without her spitting at me and baring her teeth. So expressive, these eyes should be. So full of the light of life, but promising a murderous revenge. I suppose she did attain some degree of it, in the end. So much work was lost."

The bearded man looked at the armored soldier at the side of the room, who ran his hands through his thick, steel-gray crew cut and silently shrugged in return.

"Sir?" Nico asked.

"Such a pretty little thing," Radim murmured, quietly. "Just like her. Yet, so _dead_ inside. Wherever are you now, Zero? After Purgatory, where did you vanish to? I finally have the means and the funding to bring you back to me - and _now_ you disappear. You were always so, so difficult."

The young girl gazing up at him blinked once, vacantly.

"Of course," he answered for her, gently. "_You_ have no idea what I'm talking about."

Radim held out the Predator handgun, and raised his eyebrows encouragingly.

"Take this, Phantom One." Behind him, he heard Nico suck in a breath.

"Um, sir..."

"Is her obedience complete and absolute, Nico?" the doctor asked, loudly, not turning to look back.

The younger, bearded man cleared his throat. "Her DNA was carefully seeded with the other female sample we were provided with. Not as high biotic potential, but perfect in every other way. High scores for loyalty, compliance, and conform-"

"Answer the _question_, Nico."

"Sir. Yes."

Stepping backwards from the young girl by three full steps, Dr. Mirko spoke to her.

"Put the barrel of the gun in your mouth."

The child frowned slightly, but opened her mouth widely to display perfectly white, even teeth, and proceeded to do so. Her full, plush lips contorted around the cold metal.

"Very good," Radim praised quietly, nodding.

"Sir, what are-"

Dr. Mirko held the gaze of the girl, unblinking. "Pull the trigger, Phantom."

Nico held his breath as the room went silent and still - other than the girl slowly extending her index finger to curl around the trigger of the handgun.

Seconds passed.

A crease appeared between the mahogany eyebrows of the girl, and her eyes glistened. Slowly, she removed the gun from her mouth, licking her lips to moisten them. Her face betrayed only the slightest hint of her first emotion.

Distress.

The question on her face was increasingly clear to all in the room.

_What have I done wrong? I've obeyed._

Radim nodded again, almost sadly, and made a small gesture with his hand.

Nico flinched as a gunshot rang out in the small room.

In a halo of brown hair and scarlet mist, the girl slumped limply to the floor - missing part of her skull.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the gray-haired man with the crew cut return his own handgun to his thigh holster. The man heaved a quiet, weary sigh.

Dr. Mirko turned around and picked up his cup and saucer, then stepped towards the door, where he paused beside the unmoving Nico.

"I'll see your neural programming team in two weeks when the next subject is ready. See that she's fixed."

He strode out the door, and his fading voice echoed in the room as the door closed behind him.

"And recover the amp before you dispose of that."

* * *

_[external_sensors=true]_

The humanoid unit paused as it crested a small slope, rotational angle detection indicating that it would be an ideal time to reset navigational measurements based on known landmarks. The single sensor eye glowed dimly, despite the near-total darkness of Alchera's polar darkness.

_[U+0027 / 290.8882087]_

_[elapsed_time/incident_point_zero=5.996e+7 seconds]_

For nearly two years, the nearly-destroyed unit had dragged itself across the ammonized ice of the surface of Alchera with its single functional arm.

Behind it trailed the dead weight of its useless legs as they carved a trail into the icy crust - a marker of its passing that rapidly vanished in the frigid methane wind.

The unit had long since bled to near-death of functionality-sustaining lubricants, and retained enough power for either the movement of crawling, or sensors and cognitive processes - not both.

Twice per solar day on this lifeless planet, it would reawaken and reset its heading - before shutting down programs and blindly crawling forth with all of the thought of a child's wind-up toy.

_[event_condition=true]_

In the far distance - nearly to the visible horizon, lit by the reflected starlight on frozen lands - a broken ship lay amongst the rocks and poisonous snow.

_[correction=+4.8481368]_

The unit began to shut down the minimal runtimes it had started in order to calculate direction.

_[visual_acquisition_primary_objective=true]_

_[external_sensors=false]_

Again, it began to drag its battered shell across the surface of Alchera - the lone occupant of an entire world.

_[primary_objective=human_vessel_ssv_normandy_sr-1]_

The decision amongst runtimes was a simple matter. They all only wanted one thing.

To exist.

Consensus was reached.

This unit crawled.


End file.
